The Grand Tournament
by thecrazyfanficcer
Summary: *discontinued* After a war that had Navis' very existence at stake, peace has settled over DenTech City, but on the heels of peace swiftly comes chaos. Sparks will fly, eyes will widen, hearts will pound. The Grand Tournament is comin' to town.
1. Kid Criminal

**Hey, peoples! Thecrazyfanficcer strikes again! (grins evilly) Oh, and if you don't like OOC-ness or WAY too many OC's, you might not want to read this…**

**Pikasqueaks: Fanficcer, who are you trying to kid? We know you're pathetic already – no need to advertise.**

**Clara: (slaps him) Come on, dude, TCF's not a bad writer. It's just… It's just crazy, you know.**

**Magic: Hence the penname, kupo!**

**Pikasqueaks: (sighs) I'm seriously wishing we had our own narrated cut scene. Not this pathetic script format.**

**Magic: Why, kupo?**

**Pikasqueaks: Then Fanficcer wouldn't be standing there, listlessly staring at us.**

**Clara: TCF! Are you all right?**

**Thecrazyfanficcer: (sways woozily) On with the fanfic, peoples!**

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**Ryozo's POV**

"Get off me!" I swore.

The woman was calm, but a cold fury was glowing away in her eyes. I saw it sparkling, leering at me as she tossed her green hair over her shoulder and clipped the handcuffs onto my wrists. "No dice," the woman – they called her Sal – said clearly, tightening up the handcuffs' clips a notch. I winced from the pain, but she didn't appear to have noticed. "No chance of that, you little scum." (I couldn't help but notice that, after she said that, there was a disgusted look in those fiery eyes of hers. Was she feeling guilty?)

"Leave. Me. Alone." I calmed myself down, trying to keep my tongue civil. Staring deep into Sal's eyes, I said, "The name is Ryozo. Ryozo Jonouchi." Trying not to flinch from the pain from the tightened handcuffs in my wrists, I contented myself in glaring at her.

"No." Sal was firm, unmoving in her anger. "No, Jonouchi." She stared at me through clear, powerful eyes. "I know that kids can't be arrested, so you'll be going off to juvenile school."

"Juvie?" I spat, finally giving in to wincing from the pain. "You're sending me off to _juvie_?!"

"Yes," replied Sal, deep and serious. A shadow crossed over her face, and she grabbed me by the arms again. Oh, how I wish I know her last name. (rolls eyes) "Yes. That's where you're going, Jonouchi. You little scum. Come on."

I can imagine how I must have looked then: jade-green eyes glaring at her, deep and calculating despite the fact that my face was contorting into an ugly snarl from the pain, black hair still smeared with white dye flying in all directions, teeth bared menacingly. Sal, however, was unwavering; grabbing me by one arm, she directed me over to the van a few paces away. With a hateful look, she unlocked the back door via her PET.

"Move it!" Sal said sternly, almost pushing me into the extended backseats. As I buckled myself in, glaring at her, she shut and locked the door and emerged from the other end. On the driver's side, she adjusted the mirror above – perfect to glare at me resentfully, I suppose – and almost shoved the key in ignition.

"Now come on, Jonouchi." Sal's tone was strong and self-assured as she turned the key and stepped on the pedal. "Your hands are bound. You can't try to escape."

_She's supposed to be kind gentle, caring. Instead I've got this, _I thought dejectedly as I slunk from the van window beside my cheek. They were locked by PET; Sal had my personal terminal in the trunk and I wasn't able to converse with Juggler Man either way. _I hate this, _I thought, looking out the window with a solid, stoic expression. The pastoral side of Dentech City was going past; the backdrop of green grass and cheerful, peaceful livestock definitely didn't match my mood. Turning my eyes away from the window with a sigh, I slumped in my seat.

_I'd expect someone with swirly cheeks to be nicer than that._

**Mega Man's POV**

Lan was cheering.

"Yes!" he crowed, pumping a fist into the air. With his eyes a-closed and his hair all a-flop like that, he looked even more like an anime character than normal. "Yes! That adventure is over! Now my Navi can stay in the Real World _and _the Internet!"

"I guess this means I'll have to stop wearing living under my Jack Miller alias," I said sadly, touching Lan's our mother's sky-blue contact lenses with a finger as I stared down at the bed. "I kind of liked evading the authorities like that."

Lan grinned evilly, giving me a look. "What is this, Mega Man likes living under secrets and lies, deception and controversy?" he challenged, his mischievous eyes sparkling excitedly. "He's finally learned how to live like a NetNavi who doesn't boss his own Operator around?"

I pushed my former Net Op/current twin brother away playfully. "Seriously, Lan, you really don't think that. I mean, I was just saying."

"Still hasn't changed." Lan stood back, shaking his head reverently. "After all this, and he's still the same old Mega Man." He took a few seconds to close his eyes as he reminisced, but I knew his eyes were still glowing away brightly behind the lids. When he opened them again, the Lannish glint was indeed still there. "It's as if, even after he's learned that all Navis can live between old worlds, he still won't accept it."

"Ooh, big word," I replied casually, tweaking the Interworld Connector around my wrist. I was a nifty bracelet of blue plastic that did just that; without this little beauty, Navis would be caught in a single world, like before. When I looked up, I plastered a mischievous grin of my own onto my features as I smirked nonchalantly. "Since when the expert – yet idiotic – NetBattler Lan Hikari employ in everyday life words such as 'accept.'"

He grinned. Hugely. "Uh huh. But, to get back to it, you know, I do think we should continue living as plain old Lan and Mega."

"I suppose," I admitted reflectively, poking the contact lenses a little deeper into my eyes, "but I really liked living as Jack Miller. Maybe we could do it sometimes."

"Maybe, but I think life is going to be hectic enough in the future as it is." The grin having somehow disappeared, Lan airily waved a hand, though I glimpsed his eyes twinkling away. Trust me, it's not that hard. (rolls eyes) "Chances are we're probably gonna have to use enough codenames as it is."

"Good point." I looked up at the ceiling, biting my tongue nervously.

"Listen, don't worry, 'kay, Mega Man?" Lan slapped me on the shoulder. "It's not like you can't wear your eternally-unchanging human clothes, too, right?"

I smiled as I adjusted the hooded forest-green Adidas sweater I had first donned months earlier. "Yeah, you're right." I paused, casting my mind for something to talk about. Suddenly, I hit on it. "Lan," I said, looking up at him, "do you know what ever happened to that guy who was impersonating Chaud? Ryozo Jonouchi, or whatever his name was?"

"That guy?" Lan's look was more than just mischievous and evil – it was feral. "Yeah, he got sent off to juvie by Sal. I daresay he's not gonna have a good time there." He reflected thoughtfully. "His PET – his Navi's called Juggler Man or something – was the dark blue one with the odd crest Ice Man found during the war."

"Wonder what the rest of the story is?" I mused thoughtfully. "Like, why is he evil?"

"I–" Lan's face contorted; he was lost in thought. Just then, our pleas were answered for us; I heard footsteps from outside the room, and, cocking my head, watched as Mrs. Hikari – no, Mom, but I still have a hard time adjusting to that – entered the room. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed; she was brandishing what appeared to be an ancient newspaper in her hand.

"Look at this!"


	2. And I Thought Mega Man Was Twisted

**Lan's POV**

"What is it, Mom?" I asked, trying to keep myself calm. I couldn't remember ever having seen her this excited; it was actually pretty weird. Usually she was all calm and motherly. "What's that old thing for?"

Mom took some time to compose herself. This done – yeah, she looked better now – she showed us the paper. It had been typed in bold ink, but the lack of colour made me wince. Mega looked at it, rubbing his chin – knowing the guy, he probably didn't know what it was.

"Well, look what's on the cover!" Mom said excitedly, flipping the newspaper. There, on the flip side, was a blown-up picture of two people: our Official NetBattler friend, Sal, and the kid who had impersonated Chaud a few days ago, Ryozo Jonouchi. On the picture, Sal's arms were crossed as she stared at Ryozo, who was glaring back angrily, his own arms handcuffed. From what I could deduce from the large, block-letter headline and short summary below it, Jonouchi was going to juvie. "He's finally been punished," Mom explained to me and Mega.

"You're so excited because of that?" I asked incredulously.

"Lan." Mega Man sounded annoyed in spite of his calm, patient tone – he was talking as if I were a child who didn't understand the world. "Chances are Mrs. – uh, Mom has something more important to say to us than that. Maybe we're in it."

"You are!" Mom smiled and riffled through the sheaves; the inky fumes made me cough. Somehow my craziness and mischievous sense of anime humour had disappeared. Mega, however, was watching intently, a rapt look in his vibrant green eyes. "Listen to this."

"'In a shocking demonstration of keen capture hunting skills, young crimefighters Lan Hikari and his NetNavi, Mega Man.EXE, captured and turned over eleven year-old criminal Ryozo Jonouchi –'"

At this, I snorted. "He's younger than us, and already evil?"

"Well, we did start our thing when _you _were ten," Mega reprimanded, his eyes thoughtful. And Fanficcer is listening to Madonna's Future Lovers, which it says would be great for a Subaru/Luna romance fic. Whatever that means. (mutters darkly)

Mom went on, regardless, though her voice did get considerably louder. "– and handing him over to local security. Later, when asked why, Hikari merely replied, 'He was impersonating my friend Chaud – making him seem even more psycho than usually, you know.'"

I punched the air happily, pumping my arm up and down. "I'm famous!"

Mega Man directed his hand over to me and calmly brought it down. "Go on," he said, giving me the look.

Now, Mom, apparently unbothered by the spectacle, ignored us and continued reading. "'Mega Man, however, was quieter. When asked the same question, he simply replied, 'I do what's right.'"

The said blue bomber gave me a gloating look. "Tolja," he smirked.

"Continue," I said testily.

"'Anyway, from what Official NetBattler Sal have told us, the two had to run quite a long way before finally catching up with Jonouchi and presenting him to the authorities. 'It took them over two hours,' the green-haired Operator of Wood Man said. 'But they still did it.'

The two are already quite well known. 'They're famous because of all the crimefighting they do,' the previously mentioned Official NetBattler Chaud Blaze, who has been impersonated by Jonouchi,' said in an exclusive interview. 'They did save my life, after all. They're not half bad, I suppose.'"

"Typical Chaud. Always spoiling our fun."

Mega poked me, grinning. "Ooh, big word. 'Typical.' Nice adjective usage."

"Not again! Cut it out!" Annoyed, I poked him back.

Mom ignored our bickering and plowed on. "'Now, this masterful ruffian Jonouchi has been sent off to the Dentech Juvenile Hall, the only education centre for delinquents under eighteen in the city. Local authorities are sure he will not be able to escape; the Hall's high-tech security only allows some of the PET features to be used. He will barely be able to converse with his NetNavi, Juggler Man, and for sure this latter will not be allowed to run amuck in the Real World.'"

Nevertheless, Mom seemed pleased when she had finished. Rolling up the newspaper, she patted Mega on the head. "Just like you did when you first came here," she said, smiling, and left, leaving the newspaper on the bed.

I grinned. Reaching over for the paper, I spread it out before Mega Man's eyes. "Guess what's coming up?" I asked, tapping the surface.

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**Piero's POV**

The world was quiet.

Well, that's how it seemed here, at any rate. I was in the headquarters for the Grand Tournament for what could easily have been the eightieth time. Smiling but nervous, I turned to my NetNavi, Petey, who was enjoying a calm stay in the Real World.

"This is it, Petey," I told him, running a hand through my curly hair. "The Grand Tournament will be initiated the day after. How do you think it'll go? I don't see what I could have done wrong, but I probably did."

"Relax, Piero. You should know how." Throwing his honey-coloured locks aside, Petey patted me on the shoulder. "You, my friend Dr. Corradi–"

I glared. I'm his friend, his creator. By all means, he should call me Piero.

"OK, OK, mister. But no one said I have to listen to you." Petey grinned and poked me. Repeatedly. "But you and Elynor did this together, right? You and the rest of TGT staff. It can't go wrong."

"Yes, it can," I told him sadly, pushing him away. Grabbing my PET from a table a few centimetres away, I sighed and made some adjustments. "Trust me, it can."

He snorted derisively. "Yeah, but then again I know more than you think, Piero. Don't forget that. I've known you for around seven years, after all."

I nodded. "Yeah…"

He and I were working on the Grand Tournament, an annual NetBattling tourney starting this year – in two days, as a matter of fact. The Grand Tournament was no easy thing to organize; yes, it had taken at least half a year, and yes, there was a reason behind it. For one thing, it was a NetBattling tournament – this particular kind bounds aplenty in this day and age, I can tell you – and for another it was supposed to be the best ever. Later, I knew, this particular title – should the tournament even accede to that status in the firs tplace, of course – would probably be knocked off TGT, as we of the staff fondly called it.

The Grand Tournament was my friend Elynor's idea. (blush) Through the ages, while I worked as a scientist with Yuuichiro Hikari, the man who created Navis, we had been joined by a hardworking group of young people. Of course, TGT was a full-time project for Elynor; she had enough money to work on it from summer jobs and the money she had saved since childhood. Me, I had worked only some of the time… But, as Petey seemed to think, it was going to work out fine. There were some minor glitches, but I knew that everyone was proud of what we had forced ourselves to achieve. The best thing about this was that, just weeks after a war that had threatened NetNavis and humans alike, the show would go on. Of course, the Interworld Connectors – blue plastic bracelets that now allowed Navis to switch between the Real World and the Internet – were a big factor for TGT, too. The world of Navis had been threatened once; now, thanks to the Connector, the tables had turned. As a matter of fact, I knew, a lot of the Grand Tournament would probably take place in the Real World.

"Pondering session over?" Petey quested, a laughing grin on his face, when I finally looked up. I grinned back, picked up my PET, and continued making some adjustments. The thing seriously needed updating.

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**Third Person**

It was a few hours later when Elynor Daniels, tying her short, wavy hair into a bun, appeared in the doorway. There were Piero and Petey, steadfastly working at a computer table in a corner. The three of them were in the basement of the Grand Tournament building in Netopia; the rest of the building was unoccupied.

_Well, it is nine thirty at night, _Elynor thought with a small smile as she descended the stairs. Once at the foot, she strolled across the stone floor, overly aware -- as she always was – of the gray concrete walls and cheap steel furniture. It had been expensive enough to buy TGT headquarters and furnish the rest of it, which had left the basement the cheapest of the whole building.

_Poor Piero and Petey. _Finishing up with her hair, Elynor touched Piero's shoulder. _They always have to work in the basement because the rest of TGT headquarters is crowded. _

He didn't turn around, though she could tell he acknowledged her. He shuddered slightly, as though he wanted to talk but couldn't, and beckoned for Petey to come over. The two murmured for a time before Petey left the sleek computer while Piero resumed typing.

"Piero?" asked Elynor, gently placing one hand on his shoulder. "Piero, are you two all right? Do you want any help?"

Piero's face reflected onto the computer monitor – a curly-haired, chubby, young man's face transparent onscreen, smiling slightly at her touch. "Well, I don't need any help, Elynor, but… Well, I'm worrying. What if something goes wrong?"

"This guy never listens to me." With a cross-eyed grin, Petey thrust his thumb back toward his Net Op. "Catch my drift?" Eyes still crossed, he began to run backwards toward the staircase. "Anyway, I'll see you guys later. I want to go to bed right now."  
Elynor smiled, amused. "I'll stay here with Piero – I need to talk to him." Her brown eyes locked onto the Navi's darting figure as he jogged quickly back toward the staircase. "Good night, Petey."

"You can wait for me outside," Piero added, turning around in his swivel chair to face his Navi. "I'll be fast."

"Catch ya later!" Petey's voice resonated from above as he spun around and climbed the steps with what appeared to be the greatest of ease. "I'll see you!" he called the shout followed by a door slamming.

Once his NetNavi had gone, Piero spun the rest of the way in his chair so that he was facing Elynor. The two froze like that for what seemed like hours, blue eyes staring into brown eyes. Finally, biting his lip, Piero plucked up enough courage to say, "What if something goes wrong?"

"Even if it does, Piero, don't worry." Elynor offered her friend a hand, which he gingerly took. By now his cheeks were faintly rose-coloured. She once more stared deep into his eyes. "Everything will work out fine." _I'm sure of it – even if it doesn't, we need to be there for each other._

Piero's smile reappeared, a small, curved line on his otherwise worried face. "I have faith in what you're saying, Elynor." _She's right. Even if TGT blows over this time, we'll still have each other. _

"That's the way it should be," she replied quietly, wrapping her arm around his neck. Pieo smiled and, following suit, allowed himself to slowly drift toward the staircase with her.

"I know, Elynor." Piero ducked his head down under her embrace, but he was still aware of the blood rushing to her neck and coating her face with a hot blush. He could feel their hearts beating, two as one, in their chests, the beat going on.

And it was like so, arms over shoulders, eyes unfocused and wavering, that the two friends drifted together in a soft embrace. They'd always have each other.

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**A/N: So, how's that for the second instalment of The Grand Tournament? By now, you might be confused –**

**Pikasqueaks: Well, duh. Totally.**

**Clara: Well, I'm not. What about you, Magic?**

**Magic: Well, kupo, I'm learning.**

– **so, here it is. Two weeks ago there was a war, a war in which, thankfully, no one died. There was a war because, some time before that, Mega Man had awoken in the Real World. By the end of the war (which the god guys won), however, a new reign was established: by aid of the newly invented Interworld Connectors, Navis could travel between the Real World and the Internet as they chose. Deletion itself was rendered as not too dangerous thanks to the little devices.**

**Of course, the Connectors have their drawbacks – as Mega and his friends will find out.**

**Pikasqueaks: (cracks knuckles) Next chapter, we'll be waiting!**

**Magic: He thinks he's menacing, kupo, but I can't help but notice he's sweatdropping. Kupopo!**

**Clara: I guess making fun of Fanficcer isn't the best fun you can have in life. (amused smile)**

**Thecrazyfanficcer: (oblivious to their conversation) Until next time, guys!**


	3. Hello, World

The dance was breathtaking.

Slowly the standard NetNavi swirled and twirled, his scarlet cape fluttering around his ankles like a bright flame flickering to life. The feathers on the shoulders of the cape quivered with the gradual gyration of his body as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It was a beautiful, unusual sight – what a figure the Navi made as he slowly swirled, the cape of ruby flash around him. It was as though time itself had slowed just to honour his dance. As he moved, his head twisted from one side to the other, his eyes were bright, alive, vibrant – radiant, far-spaced, small azure glowing lights. They moved in sync with the soft tune floating around him; the music encircled the Navi in his slow, swirling, twirling dance like a thick-fitting coat.

"What a sight," a blue Navi remarked as, with a flourishing, swirling hop onto his feet, the NetNavi before them finished his dance. "Have you ever seen a person dance like that before?"

"No, I have to say I haven't." A pink-clad Navi beside him smiled, green eyes focused on the dancers. He was presently adjusting the cape on his shoulders as, a spring in his step, he strolled over to them. "Been practicing?" she called out.

"Yep," replied the Navi cheerfully, grinning as he spun with a flourish. "TGT is the day after tomorrow." He took off his cape, blowing reverently on the ruby fabric. "I'm gonna to initiate it, you know."

"So, Maxim…" The blue Navi trailed off, watching the dancer folding up the cape. "Can we still sign up to be in the Grand Tournament?"

"Of course you can, Mega Man, Roll." Maxim bowed, azure eyes cruising the ground. "As a matter of fact, I can take you there if you want."

"OK," replied Roll as she exchanged smiles with Mega Man. "Where is it?"

Maxim grinned, unfurling his cape. "Can't tell you yet," he replied brightly, lifting up a finger. "You'll have to catch me first."

And with that, he went speeding off toward the horizon, his cape a scarlet streak behind him.

"Guess we might as well follow him," suggested Roll, still smiling.

"Well, what are waiting for?" a grinning Mega Man replied.

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"Hello, world!" Maxim cried out brightly.

"Hi," greeted a dark pink standard Navi. "How you doing?"

"Pretty well." Maxim veered to a halt and chanced a look behind him. "I see Mega Man and Roll haven't caught up with me yet. Isn't that lucky, Lara?"

Lara, who was sitting down behind the desk where the Cyberworld sign-ups were taking place, nodded. "Yeah, I suppose." Grinning faintly, she noticed a group of Navis walking over. "But hold on. These folks have to sign up, I'll bet," she went on, quickly scurrying away.

"Fair enough." Rubbing his eyes, Maxim looked up. Mega Man and Roll were nearing them; they both looked flushed, brilliant, exuberant – alive. _I guess being in the Real World can make a Navi happy wherever they are. And they've definitely been doing a lot of that lately. _Smiling to himself, he watched the Navis approach. _Me, I'm scared of the Real World, so I'm fine with things as they always are._

"We finally caught up with you, Max!" Roll called, pulling up from behind Mega. He had been ahead of her, but she had shown him with this last burst of speed. "Is this where we can sign up?"

Maxim nodded, once more peeling off his cape and undoing the nigh-invisible fastenings that held the feathers onto it. When shock registered on his friends' faces, he merely grinned, winked, and redid the fastenings. "Yeah, but you're going to have to wait," he told them, head down as he worked. "Lara's off helping some others."

"That's fine. We can wait." Mega looked around. "What part of the Internet are we in, anyway? I can't remember having seen it before, but on the other hand we weren't running for a very long time."

"It's a new section of the Internet," Roll answered instantly. When Mega Man gave her an odd look, she smiled and wrinkled her nose. "I know because Maylu took me here a few days ago."

"Well, what kind of part of the Internet is it, then?"

Roll assessed them keenly through vibrant eyes. "It's the area that was set up for TGT, wasn't it, Maxim? The one that's still being worked on?"

"Yup." Done with his cape, Maxim grinned and slung it over his shoulder. "Yes, this is cyber-area of the website Turning around, he gestured to a figure walking over. "Ah, yes. Here she comes. The great Lara draws near."

Lara smirked playfully, jokingly pushing her friend away from the counter. "All right, Max, that's enough." Her smirk turning into a small smile, she made sure that he was standing at the appropriate distance away from her before she lowered into the chair. "So you two want to sign up?"

"I– I–" Roll wasn't sure. She looked at Mega, a questioning look in her eyes. "Should I? I'm not the best NetBattler."

"Why not?" He encouragingly pushed her forward. "Yes, Roll, you should. And even if you get beaten early on–"

"Hold on." Lara raised a hand, causing the best friends to look at her. "Are you Roll.EXE?"

"Yes," said Mega, looking at her oddly. "And I'm Mega Man. You didn't know?"

"No," apologized Lara, her face pale with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I've only heard of you guys – this is the first time I've actually met you."

"We wouldn't know any of you TGT staff if it weren't for Piero's Interworld Connector technology," Roll answered, fiddling with her own Connector, "and the fact that Maxim has this annoying to thing to do his dance all over the Internet." She paused. "And Chuck is Yai's chauffeur."

"You're gonna see the rest of us soon enough, I'm sure." Lara raised her eyebrows as she looked at the two of them. "But you guys can't just sign up as your normal selves."

"What do you mean?" Mega was confused. "I don't get it."

At this point Lara sighed, crossing her arms on the counter. Laying her head in the aperture, her eyes buried below, she sighed profoundly. "It's more complicated than that." Lara's voice emanated from where she was sitting with her palms splayed across the counter. "You're probably not going to like this, but… But to participate in the tournament you're going to have to use different identities."

To Lara's surprise, Mega Man didn't seem annoyed. He raised one eyebrow, smiling. "What's wrong with that?" he quested. "I've done it before. I can use the same identity: Jack Miller."

"No, you can't." Maxim, who had been innocently standing by looking impatiently at the floor, blinked repeatedly. "You don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Mega now looked like he was at a loss – which he was, of course. "What are you talking about?"

"Er… Well, Mega Man, it's obvious." Roll was avoiding looking at her friend, instead choosing to play with the golden-blond hair that extended behind her helmeted head. "You don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Mega repeated, still baffled, bewildered. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."

At this point, Maxim heaved a sigh, more impatient than ever. "Look, your Jack Miller identity is all over the media" – here he swirled smoothly over to Mega Man with a flick of his foot, though in spite of the arful gymnastics he was rolling his eyes exasperatedly – "and everyone knows about it." He scanned the blue bomber from helmet to booted feet. "Of course, the whole humanized-Navis-in-the-Real-World situation puts your whole group in danger; that's why you need identities and faces." Having ceased rolling his eyes, Maxim gestured feebly to the expansive Internet space around them. "As a matter of fact, I'll bet even your Net Op knows."

"Well, Lan doesn't watch the news…"

"No, but he would have found out one way or another." Roll patted Mega on the shoulder. "And I'm pretty sure we'd be able to find out if we looked hard enough."

"We can tell you everything you want to know." Lara, finally putting voice to her thoughts, looked up. "Unless you'd rather prefer to go to the Real World, that is." She smirked. "Is that what you want, Mega Man.EXE?"

He answered her with a playful wink. "Well, most of the time it's Lan who puts me up to these crazy schemes."


	4. Crazed Crimefighter, at His Own Service

The aforementioned crazed crimefighter – that is to say, the one and only Lan Hikari – was actually plotting out a crazy scheme. No joke, seriously.

Eyes sliding furtively from left to right, Lan smirked and darted forward. Hoping no one would see him, he scurried into the building. He sure wished that he wouldn't be noticed – it was too dangerous.

So, in what he hoped was a stealthy, sneaky fashion, Lan rocketed through the hallways of the Grand Tournament headquarters. _It's great to have roller skates, _he thought with a reminiscent grin, remembering when he his orange blades had cracked. Now he was sporting a new pair of equally flamboyant in-lines as he streaked through the hallways, one eye on the milling TGT staff as he snuck past them. _Yup, nothing like a good pair of these to skate past people without them even realizing it, _his thoughts went on, though he knew perfectly well that they probably did realize them. At least, his subconscious/heart of hearts knew it; the conscious part of Lan – iridescent in all his animeish idiocy, standard-anime-personality – didn't recognize the fact.

_This is awesome! _Grinning and crying out wordlessly as he pumped his arms victoriously, Lan was reminding himself of a short with a silly pink hat, though he knew not who or why.

Lo! And behold! This was second nature to him – his element, after NetBattling. This was what he did: coasting through the TGT building with the greatest of ease, his former quest to not be noticed temporarily forgotten, swingin' by people who took considerable notice of him without a care in the world, watching the stunned faces of those who he flew past. This was an awesome, uplifting sensation, all this – this – this soaring on wheels as he sped mast them, feeling the dust kicking up under his heels as he cut through the hallways between them, his face flushed with excitement as he glided past them, feeling his excitement mount higher and higher as he passed them and…

And crashed into the wall.

_This is just great, _Lan thought bitterly, a painful twinge in his forehead as he got to his feet. His previous ecstatic, joyous mood now evaporated, he slowly rose. _Just what I need._

Lan grinned apologetically, a drop of sweat coursing down his cheek, blushing furiously, black lines streaking down from under his headband. He did a quick peace sign, mouth wide open and eyes closed through the sweatdropping. The TGT staff, however, were the exact opposite of what the twelve year-old NetBattler had been expecting.

They laughed.

And quite a lot they laughed, too. They laughed so much – mouths dropping open, guffaws seeming to cloud up the air around them, smacking their knees with the hilarity of it all – that Lan's annoyed expression faded quickly (though not completely); it was now a mere trifle. A grin enveloping his features, he aimed his peace sign far into the air, his previously gaping mouth now wide for another reason.

And so it was that day that Lan Hikari learned a valuable lesson – sometimes you have to laugh at yourself.

Once the humour session was over, however, Lan quickly waved the peace sign before scampering out of sight as he charged toward a nearby elevator. Hopping into it at the eleventh hour, he was given odd looks at his efficient rapidity.

Not that Lan cared, of course. After all, he was who he was – he had to do this thing that his humanized Navi wasn't anticipating but would definitely only mildly surprise him. Lan had his reasons, of course – OK, so being an SAP character/ having AI () helped considerably. Especially one who happened to have an imagination.

At any rate, Lan quickly arrived at the third floor. Tipping his head respectfully to some of the Grand Tournament staff standing inside the elevator (these two gave him odd looks), he swirled on his blades and emerged in the main hallway.

"All right, then." Lan pulled a map from his schoolbag, kneeling down as he did so. Consulting the many twists and turns that ran over the paper, his quick eyes took everything in. So, according to the map, his destination was two rooms ahead. "Excellent," Lan mumbled, folding up the sheet and packing it away into his bag, "This doesn't look too hard."

Swinging the bag across his shoulder, Lan went up on the balls of his feet and back down again. He didn't think it would be a good idea to go speeding through the hallway and the following room; who knew what could happen? Especially if his dad were there… _He'd be mad, for sure, _Lan thought, securing the pack on his shoulders. Boldly striding forth, he glanced around him.

It was quite a busy hallway, actually. Doors were positioned every few metres along the walls on either side, their bright white plastic signs bearing titles such as 'Graphic Design' and 'NetBattling Tournament Connections.'

_Odd names. _Blinking, Lan strolled calmly down the hallway. Away from him, a few people were seated at laptops, some with their Navis, while others were standing beside a counter a short distance away, against a wall between the doors. These were clearly receptionists; he could hear the riffling of papers, the clinking of glasses, and the bleep of PETs as they worked. The only other object of interest was a jack in-compatible bulletin unit next to a final door; this one was heading straight forward, where Lan had to go.

Lan rapidly passed the workers, making his way over to the bulletin. _Mega Man is with me, _he thought, fingering the button that could be pressed to refresh the news pertaining to TGT. _Maybe he could check it out?_

"Mega, do you wanna take a look?" he asked, bringing his eyes up to the screen. A few bits and bytes of information flickered across, being added to and subtracted from before his very eyes. Come to think of it, there was actually quite a lot of news today.

"Mega Man?" Lan quested cautiously when the blue bomber didn't answer. "Mega? Can you hear me?"

That was it. Nothing. Lan fumbled through the pocket of his shorts, rummaging around for his familiar sky-blue terminal. His furious hand arose seconds later, PET clutched in his fist.

_What's going on? _Being careful not to mutter the words as they ran through his mind, Lan brought the PET to his head. _Why isn't he answering me?  
_"Mega Man, can you hear me?" The crazed crimefighter posed the question clearly but somewhat loudly; the humanized Navi needed to know. "Are you listening?"

_Huh? _Lan turned the PET in his fist, then gave a double take.

------------------------------------------------

Mega Man wasn't there.

_Oh. Go figure._ Feeling like he was about to flush – there was now quite a large group of staff people around him, having heard his frenzied murmuring – Lan stuck the PET into his pocket. It figured. A lot.

Now that he thought about it, Lan remembered. He'd left his Navi with Roll and that TGT guy, Maxim, in the Internet. _Whoops. _Almost sweatdropping again with the whole matter of this embarrassment-inducing agony, Lan smiled and pushed past the small crowd gathered around him. He had a mission to accomplish.

And, for any of those crazed fanfic-readers wonderin' – yes, it_ was_ involved with saving Mega Man.

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() SAP – standard anime personality AI – animeish idiocy Basically the same thing – a character, usually the main character, of an anime, manga, or video game, is rash, reckless, idiotic and of course hilarious.


	5. On With the Hippieness!

"YEEEEEEAAAAAAAH!"

"Hurray!"

"'Hurray?' Can't you think of any more cries of insane delight than 'hurray?'"

"Not necessarily. Well, that depends if I use my brain or not."

"Hey, like, isn't 'groovy' good enough?"

(pensive pause) "Yeah, that wouldn't be bad."

"So, everyone, cry out your random expression of extreme happiness of choice! And yes, I am aware that sounded somewhat pathetic!"

"AWESOME!"

"EXCELLENT!"

"AMAZING!"

"GROOVY! Like, shyeah!"

"'Shyeah?' Where's that from?"

(wink, wink) "PSYHADELLIC, BABY!"

"I'M SO RANDOMLY EXPRESSING MY EXTREME HAPPINESS!"

"THIS IS GREAT!"

Elisa Cox almost burst out laughing. Her goofy friends – Douglas Mulroney and Clifford Havermeyer and that wacked hippie chauffeur Chuck – were some of a kind. She and her friend Savannah, however, considered themselves normal enough (though se knew perfectly well that she herself crazy), but nothing could top the insanity of Douglas and Clifford. Of course, the four of them were all part of the Grand Tournament staff, but that didn't necessarily prevent the craziness of her cohorts. Rather, their craziness augmented.

"OK, I think that's enough random strings of words describing TGT," Savannah said now, clapping her hands together. The girl of Chadian descent was busy adjusting some minute details on her PET when she finally decided to abruptly move on with this motion. "After all, Doug and Cliff, at least _some _of us are normal."

"But ain't it cooler to be crazy, guys'n'gals, dudes'n'dudettes?" Chuck leaned back in his chair, grinning wholeheartedly. "D'ya catch ma drift, homies?"

At this point, Clifford gave him an odd look. "'D'ya catch ma drift, homies?'" he echoed. "That's not hippie, that's modern rap star." Shaking his head, he turned back to Savannah. "Oh, and if anyone's wondering…"

"…Don't call us that," finished Douglas, crossing his arms. "I mean, just because we're goofy and it would seem more suitable to use abbreviated pseudonyms doesn't mean we like being called as such."

"Odd little speech, Douglas," grinned Savannah with a laugh, but she was respecting their rule nevertheless.

The group of them were seated peacefully in a room on the second floor of the TGT headquarters, which was conveniently tucked away behind the chamber entitled 'Main TGT Operations Base.' That was where they had all worked the hardest but now, with the Grand Tournament in a few days, it was deserted. Therefore, this friendly, fateful, funny little gang was now sitting calmly on beanbags and pouffes arranged in a circle on the floor. Savannah was the only one with a laptop balanced on the bright red rubber before her; the desks that surrounded them in a comfortable, cozy circle were cluttered with important documents and strewn with cables. The ceiling was low, barely six feet tall, and the room was flooded with dark light emanating from lamps hanging from the ceiling. In a corner of the curving desk stood a collection of weird, wacked and wonderful lava lights – Chuck's collection.

"I feel like hittin' the sack, like, right now." Chuck yawned and stretched, getting to his feet. "Anyone know where the Navis are?"

"Running around happily, and Maxim's in the Internet." Savannah didn't bother looking up as she answered. "NetNavis loved the Real World, you know."

"Yeah, that's right." Chuck grinned hugely at them. "I forgot how groovy Earth is to them."

"To us, too." Elisa grinned and tapped the floor under her beanbag. "Don't forget how wonderful it is, after all – to us and them. 'Cept Maxim." She paused, thoughtfully. "For some reason he's afraid of the Real World."

"Meh," replied Chuck indifferently, spinning on his heel and heading blindly to the door. "'Dever, as long as Adrian's OK. G'night. That's all, folks."

Douglas checked his PET's watch as the door clicked shut in the background; with some ear-straining, they could hear Chuck's light, receding footsteps. "He's got a point. It is getting pretty late, don'tcha think?"

"Not really." Clifford winked at his friend. "Is it now?"

"Actually, this here watch says it's 10:58." Douglas stared at his timepiece. "No, now it's 10:59." He looked up at the others. "To bed? Maxim is due to initiate his dance the day after tomorrow, after all."

"Yeah." Elisa looked slightly dismayed as she rose in unison with Savannah, who was busy shutting down her equipment. "I miss Maxim now, come to think of it."

"Ells?" Savannah stuffed her high technology into her pockets and shoved some onto the desk. Startled, she looked up at Elisa, then slowly transferred her gaze to the rest of them. "It's not eleven at night – it's eleven in the daytime!"

Douglas gave a start. "Well, let's go wake up Chuck!"

"No, I don't think we need to." Clifford was grinning thoughtfully as he grabbed Douglas by the sleeve, slowly pulling him backwards. "He was up real late last night."

"What? Why?" Savannah didn't understand. "Why was everyone's favourite hippie up so late?" Now she sounded suspicious; she was practically glaring at the two men. "Was he with the Navis?"

Clifford looked innocent. This consisted of widening blue-green eyes, throwing blond hair over shoulder, scuffing show on the ground below his pouffe, and allowing pearly tears to sparkle in wide eyes as he fixed them with this look. Beside him, Douglas repeated the action; they both rose slowly, staring from Savannah to Elisa with that cute pose.

"He was, wasn't he?" Elisa wasn't amused. Glancing at Savannah, she asked casually, "So, what should we do to them?"

"Well, I don't know." A evil smile played around Savannah's lips. "I mean, for all we know, they could have done something to Lara and the others. Right?"

"Yes." Elisa, her face enveloped in a nasty-looking victory grin, stared at Clifford and Douglas. These two were now walking away from the girls, toward the door as fast as they could without turning around. "I think they deserve some sort of odd, twisted, demented punishment for this – don't you?"

"They're OK, we swear!" A panicked Douglas, shoved up against the door beside Clifford, glanced, unnerved, from side to side. Luckily, Elisa and Savannah had stopped their menacing advancing.

_On second thought, maybe this isn't so lucky, _thought Clifford. Scared out of their wits, the two hugged each other with equal cries of terror: "HELP US!"

"You think we're gonna hurt you?" Savannah gave Elisa an odd look. "Well, would you look at that. They still haven't figured out that we're smarter than them yet."

"I agree." Elisa raised her eyebrows before cracking her knuckles, a wicked expression in her eyes. "It's time to get crackin'."


	6. hackSIGN

Meanwhile, at the GT headquarters, Lan was busy cracking his own knuckles. (Technically speaking, they were all in the TGT headquarters. He just didn't know it.)

"Hacking," the twelve year-old muttered to himself, dropping down into a seat and bringing the heavy, cumbersome computer before it to his face. Loving this moment, savouring and relishing the hunt's catch, he slowly reached one hand down and perched his index on a single button.

Lightly pressing the key – the starter key which, even after all these years, was still emblazoned as its larger, older counterparts with a circle and a line – Lan allowed the computer to boot. It clicked on, the screen coming to life with an expansive blackness while a tense Lan waited edgily by, the bursts of light that were now appearing on the screen reflecting in his eyes. This was most definitely it, the part he loved. It was one of those times that he really liked; the thrill of the chase was over, but this was but the start of the catch. There the crazed crimefighter sat, staring at the PC before him with rapt attention, the flicker of a smile, and brown eyes that were wider than ever. This was awesome, for sure. It didn't matter that it was an older computer, from May 2007 – hacking was hacking.

Soon, the computer, having flickered completely to light, revealed to him a desktop. Without a single pause for thought or even a slight hesitancy, Lan leaned forward excitedly, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. _This is gonna be great. It's just what I need._

"So… Database…" A flurry of frenzied key taps later, he had access to TGT's main database. A person would have thought that it would have been harder than that to have been granted access to the main database – the storehouse of information and possibly the core of all PET-compatible devices – of an organization. Yes, but then again Lan was an experienced hacker. It had been fairly easy and simple to override the system for him.

"Here we are, then." Lan cracked his knuckles again and, still leaning forward with a hungry look in his eyes, he clicked out a few commands. Confronted by a bright white search box, he typed in 'code names.'

"Yup, that was too easy." Lan mentally congratulated himself as a keen, trained eye ran down the results. There weren't many, and the second one was simply labelled as 'MEGA MAN.EXE AND CO'S CODE NAMES.' A tap of the enter key. "This is all too easy," he repeated, effortless and relaxed – this was his thing.

"Here I am." Still talking to himself – after all, Lan was fairly sure that no one was in earshot and therefore he would be heard by none but himself – he examined the graph that was now filling the screen. There, running down from its lavender title (), was the exact information we needed.

Feeling his pulse go haywire, Lan eagerly guided the mouse toward its destination–

"No," said a loud, clear, firm voice.

Lan's eyes flew across the room, finally coming to settle on the corner of the screen. There, arms crossed resolutely, was Mega Man. The blue bomber looked distinctly disgruntled as he fixed his Net Op with an unhappy, chastising gaze.

"Lan, you can't do that." His tone was sharp, reprimanding, nagging, but Lan couldn't help but notice that there was a cheerless glint in his vibrant green eyes. The NetNavi was the same as always, all right, but he was evidently feeling guilty about something.

"Why not?" Lan asked insolently, taking control of the mouse and heading for the dark purple, diamond-shaped sign that appeared to be securing Mega Man in the cube where his virtual form appeared. "What have I done that's so wrong?"

The humanized Navi quickly regained himself from his former desolate position. Amused, he avoided the mouse and looked Lan in the eye, tapping the cube around himself with a slight smile. "You can't close this box, Lan. Anyway, the point is that we're not supposed to know what our code names are supposed to be."

"How would you know?" Lan cocked his head to the side, a teasing grin on his face. "I mean, Mega Man, don't you know that Lara's supposed to be telling them to you and Roll?"

"Oh, she already did." There was the ghost of a smile Mega's face, though otherwise he remained impassive. "Roll and I have now met up with Guts Man, Glyde, Rush, and Ice Man. We were busy telling them our code names, as a matter of fact."

"Hey!" Lan was annoyed. "Why can't you tell me?" he wheedled.

Mega Man glanced quickly behind himself; when he turned back to his Operator, his face had regained its reprimanding expression. "You deserve what you get," he said with a huge grin and, reaching down toward the purple diamond sign, clicked out.

Lan sighed as the computer closed itself, leaning back into the chair. Why? Why was his Navi always like that?

Come to think of it, how had he even broken into the system and caused himself to appear onscreen anyway?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

():_ Lavender? _(sweatdrop)


	7. Crimefighter Reindentification

"It's the tournament in a few days." Maylu's eyes twinkled playfully. "Are you guys going to enter?"

Lan thrust his hand up into the air. "Of course we're going to! If we don't, then my name isn't Lan Hikari!"

"Well, some things never change," remarked Mega Man. "I mean, after all, look at it this way – _remember what happened last time_?"

The phrase resonated in Lan's head for a short while before he grinned and waved it off airily. "Aren't the Interworld Connectors supposed to help with the deletion problem?"

"No." Yai was a tad annoyed. "As a matter of fact, if a NetNavi gets deleted with the Interworld Connector, the data is lost forever. Not even the power of love can bring one back – not last time." Her forehead glinted in the sunlight. "That's why Navis who are wearing their Connectors have more health points. And, like we all know, Navis will be allowed to use Chips on their own in the third round."

"Ah." Lan pretended to sound like he understood what she had said, though he obviously didn't. Everyone knew that.

Roll smiled, turning to Dex. "So, Dex, do you want to know those code names now?"

"Yeah, I want to." Dex raised Guts Man's empty PET, which was suspended on a string around his neck. "And after that I really want to challenge Lan and Mega to a NetBattle."

"What's the point?" teased Lan. "I mean, you know we're gonna win."

"Oh, yeah?" Dex pulled his PET from his neck. "Do you really know what me and Guts are made of?"

By mistake, Dex jerked the cord more than he'd intended.

There was a sickening snap.

It tightened around his thick neck, so much that his face turned blue faster than a traffic light as the jack-in cord tightened around his skin. The painful pump was just what Dex didn't need. Letting the PET fall from his grasp, something he hadn't expected happened: the tight cord wound even more painfully around his neck.

Trying to rip the cable from his neck, Dex was glad for the help his friends gave him as they pried it from him. They eventually managed to pull it off completely; the runaway PET was flung away (no thanks to momentum), and when Dex scampered off, retrieved it and finally returned, he was in for a mean surprise.

They were laughing!

_No, duh, _Dex thought. _Of course they're laughing. _

There he stood, in the park¸ flooded with sunlight, surrounded by his friends and their Navis. They were all laughing – or, at least, trying not to. Even Guts Man! His own bulky Navi was standing there, guffawing loudly. NOW he was angry.

"Enough, people," Dex grunted, tying his PET once more around his neck. "Stop making fun of me already."

Generally the laughter quietened, but Dex – still angry ­– looked around at the group of them. There were in the Navis in their new duds and, he had to say, even after all this time it was still odd to say them without their helmets on. Guts, of course, looked the same (not much could be done with non-humanoid Navis), while Glide had donned a butler-like tux that suited his personality – equipped with all the latest PET technology, it still managed to look classy and intelligent. Mega Man, Roll and Ice Man looked basically the same, albeit with regular modern-day human clothes; Ice had even been convinced by Tory to wear a T-shirt, along with the absence of his usual parka.

Still grunting under his breath, Dex raised a hand to his face to block the blinding sunlight as he glanced up toward the slide. The pink squirrel shape was immobile as always, though he could imagine the Dark Rush straddling at its top. Otherwise, everything was as normal as it should have been – or, at least, as normal as it could have been with Navis in the Real World.

"Yeah, I wanna know these code names." Dex would have glared at Roll if he weren't been so busy with his PET; he had the impression his skin was still partly blue, but he didn't know for sure. "What are they, Roll?" the bulky African-American preteen protested, fiddling with his PET. "And, by the way, where's Rush?"

"He's having fun in Kotobuki, in the Internet." Roll smiled, flipping her golden braid slightly with one hand. "Its great that he can use my Connector, to. On the other hand… As for the code names–"

"What are you trying to do, hold 'em here with bated breath?" interjected Ice, faintly annoyed. "I mean, they want to know them, right?"

"Well, you know them," Tory pointed out reasonably to his NetNavi. "Can't you tell them to us, Ice Man?"

"Can't." The pipsqueak Navi's voice was barely a mumble as he toyed unhappily with the zipper of the dark yellow sweater that had been tossed over his T-shirt – he felt more secure, having the feeling it replaced his parka. "Roll made us promise we wouldn't."

"I guess we have to keep our promise, then," remarked a smiling Mega Man, tapping his crest with a gloved finger. () "I know I did."

"Should we tell you?" Roll and Maylu exchanged tantalizing, tempting glances, as they uttered the question in unison. It was this kind of looks that plainly said 'We're going to tell you, whether you deserve it or not.' "Are you ready to take the challenge?"

_Bet they set that up, just for us. _Yai smiled. _I wonder what the code names are? Mine is bound to be odd, I'm sure._

"Well…" Maylu increased the temptation and the tension in the air by letting the sentence hang. "Are you other Net Ops worthy of this secret? After all, I'm the only one who knows."

Lan's and Dex's eyes were shining as, their mouths moving mutely, they pumped the air with their fists. It was a rhythmic movement; fists banging down on thin air, eyes wide and sparkling, mouths moving as if in slow-mo. Behind them, Yai was standing by with Tory; she was quite prim and demure, but you could tell she was curious, no thanks to that flickering little glint in her eyes. Tory, however, looked openly and genuinely inquisitive, though not making any sudden moves as Lan and Dex. Roll gave them a careless, almost contemptuous glance.

"Well, _some of them_ they are acting quite childishly," she replied, playing with the yellow braid that ran like crystallized, woven honey down her back. It was obvious as to who she was talking about. "I mean, look at them!"

"I know," Maylu replied, glancing at the other four Navis. None of them had told their Operators, save Roll – Glide had required some restraining, seeing as he had at first felt that 'Miss Yai has the right to know!', as he'd put it. "But what they've got is what they've got, no?"

It made the Net Op and her Navi chuckle maliciously while Lan and Dex's faces showed pure confusion. Tory, still constraining himself from any sudden movements, looked slightly more inquisitive, though now he seemed annoyed as well. Yai was pondering – her brow was furrowed and her eyes clenched tightly shut, which caused the sunlight to hit her forehead in exactly the right spot.

"Now I'm feeling guilty," said Maylu as she watched her friends struggle as they tried to reason out the cryptic enigma. "We'd better tell them, and quick."

Roll felt a pang of guilt as well as she continued to play with her hair – it felt so odd, being released from her helmet after all this time. But, she knew, playing with her hair was a pathetic thing for her thoughts to wander off about; the knot in the pit of her stomach increased, spiking sharply into her head.

"I know." Her voice barely a croak, Roll brought one hand to her stomach, pivoting her heel so that she could look her friends deeply in the eyes. They continued to stare back at her, some not showing it but, she knew, they all wanting desperately to know the secret. "Yes, let's tell them."

"OK, then." Maylu, suddenly noticing Roll, grabbed the pink-clad NetNavi by the shoulder and hauled her up as gently as she could. Roll smiled at her Net Op, emerald eyes clouded with an overdose of guilt, as the fuschia-haired girl looked at the rest of the gang.

"Lan is Nick DeCoren–"

"Dex is Dan Tomasetti–" A recovering Roll let the sentence hang, pushing Maylu away slightly as she once more balanced properly on her feet.

"Yai is Mavis DelAir–"

"Tory is Mills Thompson–"

"I'm Matilda Cheyne--"

"I'm Dice–"

"Mega Man is Blaster Man–"

"Guts Man is Renegade–"

"Ice Man is Glacier Man–"

"Glide is Sprawls–"


	8. Twisted Abyss of its Mind

"Well, that's in the fandom. This largely twisted and bent world of canon." A small black and gray dog with tightly closed eyes was busy explaining patiently to a Pikachu, a yellow Acara, and a Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles Moogle just what was wrong with Fanficcer's prose. "See, I know, and Fanficcer itself knows–"

"No, I don't," came a voice from a corner of the room. Out appeared an unhappy TCF, clutching the quill, the paper, and the bag of chips in its hands in appeared to be a grip low in self-esteem. "That was random, muses and He-Who-Has-A-Name-No-One-Knows." It shook its head sadly, dropping down to the floor beside them. Carefully placing the bag of chips on its lap and the writing material the floor, it continued shaking its head. "I just wrote it. Ultimately, life is odd. Which may or may not explain this out-of-story scene and its unnecessary-ness concerning a genderless author, its muses, and an unnamed fatedog."

And with that oddly-placed randomness, it popped open the yellow, red and white bag of Lay's. Beginning to feed itself, it glanced despairing at its quill, which was busy scribbling onto the parchment as fast as it could. For, you see, the quill can write by itself as long as Fanficcer, in real life, is either thinking or writing about this series of unfortunate events. At least, that was the legend… "There it goes," Fanficcer said sadly, watching the frenzied quill, "writing down its stuff as I sit calmly in the twisted abyss of my mind."

"I sense a really long intro coming up." The Pikachu – Pikasqueaks – tensed. "Me, Magic, Clara, the Dark Rush and why on Earth he's insulting Fanficcer's prose and/or explaining the errors."

"Hey, this isn't sporking." The Dark Rush – the small black dog – was annoyed. "What do you think this is, an intense TCF bash site? Not that that wouldn't be a bad idea, though." He wrinkled his snout. "Oh, and not to mention – the Dark Rush is not my name."

"Or so you say," Pikasqueaks countered, but Clara, the Acara, was taking care of business.

"OK, OK, that's enough," she said sharply, pushing Pikasqueaks away from the Dark Rush. Magic, the Moogle, continued looking on with an odd expression on his face. "Honestly, Pikasqueaks, by now you should know."

Pikasqueaks grinned, withdrew, and gestured to the saddened clump of a figure that was Fanficcer. "Hey, well I _had _to do something."

The Dark Rush also glanced at TCF's nigh-inert form, eyes cleverly following a potato chip's slow flight to its mouth as it lanced the yellow thing into the air. "It's time for a long, annoying Sparklypoo description."

"Really, kupo?" Magic looked annoyed. "In which case, TCF won't need one for you. Most definitely. I mean, kupo, Rush is a canon character–"

"– still not mentioned in this fic," finished the Dark Rush unexpectedly, glancing at Fanficcer as if telling it to mention the funny little brown dog. "I mean, though, look at TCF! It's incredibly weird and/or crazy, ne?"

"Or so you say." Clara sat down comfortably on the ground, tearing her eyes away from the stationary fanficcer. "Who said we need to explain this demented author (for lack of a better label) at every paragraph?"

At this, the three males gave her odd looks. "Well, it needs to describe _itself_, you see," declared the Dark Rush, tapping his snout with a mischievous grin. Now turning to Pikasqueaks, he hopped onto the yellow one's shoulders and appeared, a cute dark speck, between his pointed ears.

"Time to do what you do best, eh, Dark Rush?" An annoyed Pikasqueaks stared with hatred at the quill, still caught furiously in the fervour of scrawling this particular fic. "Annoy me up the wall?"

"I would do all three of you (not to mention the Lay-chewing Fanficcer), but I'm in a good mood today." Comfortably settling himself between Pikasqueaks' ears – this former looked scathed – the Dark Rush grinned wolfishly, eyes still closed. "So, as it is, after TCF's Sparklypoo description, I think I'll explain to you more things wrong with its writing."

Fanficcer/TCF, you see, the out-of-the-fandom-and-into-fanfiction-itself form of the author whose words you are now reading, was one odd figure. Referring to itself never by a title of a specific gender, it was limited to (as you've probably discovered) it, its, itself, it's, it was, etc. Why TCF did this, though, wasn't a secret it wasn't about to reveal any time soon. It also declared itself a 'writing self-insert' which meant that (in its words) it took the place of the author – continually interrupting the story – and was quite, though not totally, different from its real-life counterpart. In which case, it was actually pretty weird. On the other hand, so am I.

But, as for its form, this was odd: more like a black silhouette of a person than a human in itself, its most exciting features (personality aside, of course) were its luminous green eyes. Otherwise, it was an odd figure, for sure: a basic black silhouette with no distinguishing trademarks to reveal its gender and a voice that could be male or female. It was odd, in that sense (among others), and sometimes drove characters up the wall -- though not as much as its creation, the Dark Rush. It, of course, usually appeared in or out of context with its muses Pikasqueaks, Clara, and Magic, and the Dark Rush. ()

Translation: Gender-neutral Fanficcer was _so _not run-of-the-mill.

"Just what I expected," the Dark Rush announced, holding up the sheaf of parchment; the quill, regardless, kept on writing above his paws. "Two-hundred and twenty-one words of description." He shook his head, running over the words with his left paw. "I wasn't expecting the history, but meh." eyeroll pawpalm headfloor "Indifferent I am, and odd is Fanficcer."

Clara pointed to the parchment now thrust upon the floor with the quill still swarming over it. "Stop abusing TCF's writing," she said angrily, "I actually work with it for its fanfics, you know!"

The Dark Rush grinned and, walking leisurely over to Fanficcer, placed one paw on its shoulder and shook lightly. TCF moaned under its breath, pushed him away, and, reaching over for the parchment, grabbed the quill and instantly began to write. Striding back to Clara, Magic and Pikasqueaks, he smirked. It, amazingly, cheered up incredibly quickly.

"Well, at least it writes, and – some things not counting – pretty well, if I do say so myself."

"Mph?" Of all the things Pikasqueaks had been expecting, this wasn't one of them. "You actually appreciate Fanficcer?"

The Dark Rush glanced one more time at Fanficcer, who was happily chewing on a chip as it scribbled fervently. It was truly in its element in writing and definitely could write. At least. "Well, its writing's gotten pathetic in some places, but yeah – pretty much."

"Still, though, kupo." Magic sighed, drawing a back paw unhappily across his brow. "Dark Rush, kupo, you said you were going to explain to us TCF's plot holes, didn't you?" He made a face, and, in spite of the fact that he was usually a cute little Moogle, he didn't look so cute anymore. "Not that I'll agree with you, but–" He shrugged haplessly. "Well, I am kind of curious, kupopo," Magic finally admitted, playing with his spiked red bon-bon.

"I understand." The Dark Rush opened his eyes for a brief moment; they caught a glint of dark gold before he closed them once more. With a nod, the Dark Rush made a sound in his throat and slowly rubbed his paws together. "Yes. On with the plot holes." He grinned, wickedly. "And, later, perhaps you could ask Fanficcer about dear old Hartman's."

"BH's?" Clara had recovered, though now, as she raised her eyes, she had an odd expression on her face. "Butch Hartman's? Like which ones?"

"Like I said, you'll have to ask Fanficcer." Pausing, the Dark Rush, like Clara, an odd, pensive expression on his face. "Hm, I need to start helping the bad guys out more," he muttered, almost inaudibly. "I'm supposed to be neutral, after all. Just because I have to appear when people want me doesn't mean I can't help the other side too."

"What did you say, kupo?" inquired Magic politely.

Well, would you look at that. Apparently the FFCC Moogle was too naïve to even be suspicious. The Dark Rush raised an eyebrow, sat down calmly, perched himself comfortably on his elbows, brought his paws to his head, and wrinkled his snout. "Well, as for the plot holes…"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

() This latter swore he wasn't a muse, though he had a knack for getting high on characterization tests – you know, those Mary Sue/Gary Stu litmus ones.


	9. The Shock of the Afterward

"Huh?" An incredulous Dex, eyes wide, allowed the sentence hang with apparently no care to the girls' health or sanity as he faced his friends. "Us? In a NetBattling tournament? With those names? And, above all, Glide's name is Sprawls?" He blinked rapidly. "And Tomasetti? I'm_ Italian_?!"

"Nick DeCoren!" Lan victoriously punched the air, eyes shut and hair flopping once more. "'Blaster Man, power up!'" he quoted. Still in wild ecstasy, he grinned. "I really like that!" A pause in which his eyes opened as his hair righted, though, the grin was still resplendent on his face. "I tried breaking into TGT's main database to find our code names, but 'Blaster Man' here wouldn't let me."

"Mills Thompson." Tory touched his head with one hand, as though he couldn't believe what he had heard. "Mills Thompson… Hm… It sounds like Jack Miller, but" – and here a slow smile overcame his face –"I like it!"

Yai, however, was rubbing her own forehead as though it pained her. "DelAir," she mulled, almost inaudibly. "It isn't French, you know. On the other hand, I didn't want a French name." She paused. "It will do," she finished briskly, and turned to Glide.

This latter was quite flustered as he attempted to answer the confused Oyama. "They chose an Italian name for you because this area of Japan is full of people of other descent." He paused to take a breath. "It makes sense, to change the nationality of a person as well as their name… The organizers know your father, do they not?" he queried, changing tack as he turned to Lan.

The crazed crimefighter, who was unaccustomed directly talking to Glide, opened and closed his mouth in rapid-fire succession a few times. "Well, he only knows Mr. Corradi," he finally managed to stutter, "I don't think he knows about the girl – Elynor Danlies, or whatever her name is."

Yai, now losing interest, crossed her arms. "I suppose the names they selected for us _are_ common in this area," she reasoned, blinking. "You don't know just how many people live in these parts, Dex."

Lan, ignoring them all, grinned and waved his hand in front of Mega's face t get his attention. "What do you think of your code name, Mega Man?"

"I don't like it very much." An annoyed looking Mega made a slight face. "Blaster Man? If I'd had a choice, I would have chosen Buster Man." Still grinning, he raised one gloved hand, clenching his fist involuntarily – Lan could tell that he still imagined his Buster to be there. "But Mr. Corradi and the rest of the staff chose them, so I guess we don't have a choice."

"Why do we need code names, anyway?" Lan was musing thoughtfully. "Does it have something to do with the Interworld Connectors – Navis in both worlds?"

"I think it's after the fiasco at the park," Mega replied knowledgeably as he played with the slim blue bracelet wrapped snugly around his wrist. "The war, you know. It's not every day a war happens. It must be a precaution in case any of the bad guys want to get us – it must be more likely to happen after the war. And the humanized-Navis thing too, come to think of it."

"Man, no wonder this is the first year of TGT!" Lan crowed, apparently not believing his ears. "I don't believe it – I mean, after all this time, they still haven't realized that it would have no effect on us? Bad guys have been up to no good since – well, I figure it must have been a lot, like for about two years." His face clouded; he suddenly looked serious. "Fire Man – well, he was the first, but he was working for Wily. Anyway, the point is," he continued, growing more brusque in spite of the saddened tinge to his voice, "bad guys are gonna catch up with us no matter what – it won't make much difference."

"Well, they've been working hard to ensure our safety." Despite his nagging tone, Mega Man seriously cared for Lan and decisively curled a hand over his shoulder. "Look at it this way, buddy – wouldn't you like _not _having to fight all these bad guys for once?"

Lan blinked, forcing Mega's gloved hand away. He was starting to feel better and, he knew, the blue bomber was right. Besides, they had entered another NetBattling tournament of all time. For sure there would be enough adventure – bad guys or otherwise.

"There are other ways to have fun," he said with a grin, one fist balling as he extended it skyward.


	10. Pre Tournament Jitters

"Arf!"

Roll scooped up the little brown dog as he appeared on her shoulder. "Rush! You've finally come back!" she crooned, stroking his head for a brief second before he mysteriously disappeared from her hands.

"Little guy!" Mega Man laughed as the brown dog materialized atop Guts Man's angular head. The big Navi furiously tried to claw Rush from his lofty perch, but the little dog only barked again, disappearing with a loud pop.

"Arf!"

"GAH!" shouted Guts, still grabbing at his head in a plight to seize Rush, who was currently still elsewhere. "Get off me, you bugger!"

"He already has," said Yai, pointing. "He's right there."

A hole opened up in Lan's leg, revealing a Rush who popped up as he was apt to do. In a rapid-fire movement, the crazed crimefighter reached – in vain – for him. With another Arf!, Rush vanished, calmly appearing in Lan's spiked brown mass seconds later.

"Arf!" the little dog barked, burying his face into the spikes. "Arf!" he yapped again as he resurfaced, mouth full of the remains of the chocolate anime hairdo. Now, with another movement (not to mention another bark), he disappeared and quickly popped around Tory's shoulders.

Tory giggled, not bothering to reach for Rush as Dex and Lan had done. Instead, he calmly stood by, watching the others with calm eyes as they watched the canine lying quite easily around his neck, tail wagging in extreme happiness. Now, seeing the stares of his friends but otherwise ignoring them, Tory headed forward with a light, easygoing step.

They continued to gaze after the pair of them; even Ice Man was annoyed. With a loud, wordless sound, the pipsqueak Navi crossed his arms as he stared after them.

"Like I need this," he grunted. "I'm supposed to be his Navi."

"Ice Man?" Roll was more than a little surprised as she looked at her small friend. "Rush is my dog – our friend. Why the jealousy?"

Ice Man muttered something under his breath.

"I guess we'd better go." Lan, embarrassed and confused, moved slightly away.

"Yeah, I think we'd better." Maylu pulled on his arm, avoiding Ice Man's eye. "Come on, gang. We have to something important to do at TGT headquarters – and Rush is an important part of it, too."

--------------------------------------------

Elynor surveyed the mass of humans and Navis gathered at the long table around she and Piero, who sat at its head. For now, they were waiting with bated breath for her to begin; it was the day before the Grand Tournament and everyone's tension was increasing consistently. For some, it made them be filled with excited anxiety for the tourney – the NetBattling, the excitement, the courage, the valour, the victory. For some, it was the battles themselves – wins, losses, mounting excitement and ferocity as the counter ticked down lower and lower, the list shrinking down to a handful of contestants. For some, it was the fruit of hard labour – just a day from today it would all come down to the Grand Tournament itself; their pride and joy, their dream, would finally be realized. For some, it was the options – true, TGT was fun enough in its own right, but it was the sort of thing that allowed you to make new friends, meet new people, share newfound experiences.

But, for all of them, it was what was they wanted. Each and every one of them.

Elynor sighed and glanced to the low ceiling above their head and the midnight-blue lamps hanging from it; highlighted in blue as it was now, this room, the meeting room that they had regularly assembled at every week, quite resembled the room where psychedelic hippie chauffeur Chuck and his group were fond of hanging out in. But that was a trifle, compared to what had originally lain ahead of them on their path. The entire building had been purchased with the Zenny original founders – she and Piero – had earned. It had been hard enough, getting TGT the way they wanted it. And now…

_How am I going to do this? _Elynor thought, summoning her courage. She wasn't as talkative as Piero and felt shy, a little embarrassed, even though she knew perfectly well that she had been much more comfortable during other TGT staff meetings. All in all, it was the sort of thing that made a chill run down her spine. Odd enough, considering she was merely gazing at her cohorts, accomplices, cronies, helpers, friends…

Elynor sighed again, and, still aware of every eye now glued onto her, raised her voice in it. "Well, this it," she began in trepidation. "TGT starts tomorrow. Now you're free to talk about what you will – though I don't even know who the hosts will be yet."

She left herself slump, slouching into the chair. As the staff around her talked, throwing comment after comment at each other, she merely let herself stay there, their fast words passing through her ears and just tapping into her mind. Yes, it was a fairly enlightening conversation, and while Elynor would have normally would have participated in it, today she was feeling fatigued. Exhausted, even – all this work on the Grand Tournament must have finally caught up to her.


	11. Conversation Comes Before Initiation

"You know, I'm actually really happy about this." Elisa was ecstatic, buoyant; after carefully scrutinising Elynor's inert form, she decided to pay heed to the grand mistress' words and was now feeling the surge of TGT. "It's finally here! We're gonna be famous in a day!"

"Well, somebody has to take care of all the miscellaneous details," remarked Savannah reasonably. "Like who's going to be the host, how many battles are going to be fought in a day – all that stuff."

"How is that important?" Carri Harrison, a carefree girl barely out of her teens, queried. Turning to the Navi sitting next to her, fiddling with her Interworld Connector, she wrinkled her nose and gestured to where Elynor and Piero were sitting at the table's head. "I mean, knowing them, they'll probably already've decided, Rilla. Seriously."

"Just because you say that doesn't mean it's true," countered Jinsei Toyama, young fellow who had come over from the southern area of the country with his friends Ayame Kobayashi and Yoshiro Nakamura. "We've been working this hard on it. We've been spending months on it. Don't just throw our work out the window."

"Groovy metaphor, baby," tossed in a grinning Chuck, who apparently didn't care about the rest of what Jinsei was saying. "Like, y'know, from this viewpoint, the only thing not psychadellic about TGT is, like, the fact that members can't enter it."

"We can't?" A green-clad Navi named Gene was curious, inquisitive. "Why? Anyone know?" he persisted, gesturing to Piero and Elynor. They were talking together. "I don't just think we can ask them – they're too caught up," he went on, his tone quietening.

"No. I didn't even know that before today." A Net Op named Magnolia Sosa – middle-aged, she was in fact the oldest of the entire Grand Tournament staff – had a bewildered look on her face. "Which is weird, considering I wrote most of the other rules."

"I'm gonna guess that it's Rule 1 in the book," grinned Douglas, scratching his head. "Maybe you only did the others – Rule 2 to however many there are in all."

"There are way too many," replied Clifford with a grin of equal easygoing mischief. "I bet the list goes past two hundred and fifty, 'cause neat'n'orderly Piero and Elynor have at least two hundred in that rulebook of theirs." He focused bright blue eyes on Magnolia. "Right?"

"Well, there are a great many." Magnolia shrugged. "Probably less than two hundred – you may not have that bit right, you know – but I'm pretty sure that there are at least fifty."

"Doesn't seem like a great very many," a laughing Maxim commented to Lara, who was on his right. At his insistence, they were both standing comfortably in the Internet "The way I see it, the fact that the initiator gets to wear this nifty cloak to start the tournament is enough for me," he added, faithfully tapping the scarlet cloak thrown over his shoulder.

"Well, be happy then." Lara smiled and patted her friend on the head. "After all, who else would have voted you as initiator anyway?"

"Well, everyone knows I have some butt-kickin' dance moves." A slightly miffed Maxim held his head high. "Anyway, quiet down. I need to be observant right now – I want to know what everyone else is saying."

Petey smiled as he watched the two friends bickering. Shaking his head – why were they being so daft, anyway? – he grinned as he saw Adrian. Chuck's Navi, standing in front of him, was gazing forward with a glowing glint in his eye. Tapping the dreamer on the arm, Petey gave him a wide, stretching, ear-to-ear grin.

"Whatcha doin', l'il buddy?" he asked playfully. "Gazing across at my beautiful features?" He winked, sticking his head forward and making his neck longer than usual.

"Yeah, right." Adrian grinned and glanced around. "But from what I'm hearing, we can't enter TGT. That's too bad, isn't it?"

"I was thinking I could be host anyway." Petey was quite aware of his own grinning face and gleaming, reminiscent eyes as he uttered his dream. "From what Elynor just said, they don't have one."

While the estranged pair grinned dreamily, Luanne Knowles, a young Operator in her twenties, pulled her PET from her pocket and examined the data running across its screen. Before her eyes she saw that many positions had already been filled out – after-battle healer, Chip seller, ticket sellers… By now, with TGT a single day away, one thing hadn't been decided yet – the food sellers. Oddly enough, it had always been Luanne's dream to walk around the bleachers a sports game, earning some Zenny as she travelled from one fan to the other, offering them food from a box strapped around her neck. Now, she knew, would be the perfect time to ask – so, with a determined face, she turned to her Navi, Lou, and Clifford's, Ranji, who was sitting beside him.

"Ran, Lou, do you think I should be a food seller?" the TGT staffer asked, trying to be confident. Actually, she wasn't very sure of what could happen – she had always been shy at heart and, besides, now would be a good time to ask for counsel. "You know, the people who sell fast food at sports."

Ranji, a sleek spy-like Navi, stared at her intensely. "You know, out of all things, this isn't one I would expect coming from you," he said incredulously. "You, selling fast food?"

"Well, that's Luanne for you." A smiling Lou patted the bright red headband pushed through her cinnamon-coloured curls. "I expected something of the sort." Reassuringly, she tapped her Net Op's shoulder. "You're a shy but gentle person, 'Anne. But you always have the oddest dreams."

"Though this one, hopefully, shouldn't be hard to accomplish." Luanne smiled, the tone of her voice still timid and unsure. "A food seller – it shouldn't be too hard." The tone of her voice intensified, growing more worried as her words flickered more and more quickly from her mouth. "Then again, I don't even know where the tournament's supposed to be held. I don't know how dangerous it can be for a person, especially for someone like me – what if the bleachers are really steep, and I fall? What if? What'll happen then?"

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down." Lou gripped Luanne by the shoulders. "Slow down, girl. Calm yourself. Take deep breaths. The tournament is indoors anyway – and, rumour is, the room where it's going to be is even bigger than the one from last time."

"I– I–" Luanne hesitated, somewhat placated by her Navi's cool hands, but feeling more anxious than ever. "If it's bigger, then there'll be more seats – there'll be more of them, and there'll be higher up. I could fall."

"No, no." Ranji got up from across the table, briefly disappeared for a second, a resurfaced before Luanne and Lou. Now, the table pressing into his backside, but he ignored the pain. "Listen to me, 'Anne," he announced, now standing in front of the Navi and her worried-out-of-her-wits Net Op, "it'll be fine. There will be lots of customers that you'll be able to serve, and I heard that they're all well carpeted, with tracts so that your feet won't slip." He smiled. "Trust me."

Luanne smiled. "Thanks," she whispered.

Near the other end of the table sat a line of friends: Kito Camacho, Gene's Operator, along with Ayame, Willism and Yoshiro. Yoshiro, who had once been a tour guide at a dojo (now under the process of renovation after an unbeknownst reign of terror), was sipping from an iced soda.

"I think that the Grand Tournament can be the best NetBattling tournament since the N1 Grand Prix," the black-haired man declared coolly as he drank down some of the raspberry-flavoured soft drink. "As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it were." He paused thoughtfully, licking his lips slowly as he rose from his drinking stance. "And, I must say, this northern cold drink is delicious."

"It's called ' cold soda,'" laughed a cheerful Kito as he slapped the older man's shoulder. They were only a few years apart – Kito wasn't as young as his happy-go-lucky nature would suggest – though he had to admit that Yoshiro's immaculate black shades were a noticeable but eloquent touch. "And they have it down south, too."

"Yes, but they didn't allow them at the dojo. They didn't allow Navis, either." Headstrong Ayame smiled and gestured to her Navi, Willis, who was sitting beside her. "I was only allowed to have Willis here because I was head of the guard." Her face clouded, a shade falling onto unusually dark eyes. "Even then I had to fight for it."

"Me, I don't care." Willis, who always adapted quickly, grinned and shrugged expansively. "As long as I can make my way through the world with the people I love, I'm fine." Yawning, he extended his arms behind his head and leaned back into the chair. "So, I'll be happy if the Grand Tournament is a success. I bet it will be, but if it isn't I'll help make it better." His eyes closed, he mulled continually on. "No, scrap that. I'll help make it better either way. After all, we've been working this hard on it."

"I agree." Ayame glanced at Yoshiro, who was staring at her avidly, the tall glass still clutched in one fist. "You have to work to accomplish great things."

Yoshiro took a smaller intake of his soda before setting it down on the table before him. "Sometimes," he said, a smile playing about his lips, "careful bargaining and resourceful wit and cleverness will get you exactly where you need."

"'I agree,'" quoted Willis, and the three of them laughed.

Douglas' Navi Cameron, who had been listening to their conversation, quickly tuned out. She was serious at best and worst – quite the opposite of her Operator, through some odd coincidence of fate – and, now growing bored with the situation, she tapped Ranji on the shoulder. Her fellow Navi, resplendent in his sleek silver tightsuit, had reappeared from comforting Luanne.

"Hey, Cam." He smiled – no one knew why, but, while good personality together didn't bother her, grinning did – as his eyes ran up and down her clothes. "New duds? I like the get-up."

She nodded solemnly, observing her blue sweater and plain dark corduroys. "Yes, I decided that I might as well dress as a human if I'm in their world." Her own eyes flickered across his figure. "Most everyone else has, except you."

"I don't need to." Ranji impatiently waved a hand. "I like being a stealthy _espion_. But, aside from that, what's up?"

She shrugged, her eyes serious. "Nothing much, I guess. The Grand Tournament will be initiated tomorrow, and, honestly, I'm not very interested." She shrugged a single shoulder this time. "The only reason I joined was because of Douglas. He wanted me to."

"You're not?" Ranji, who hadn't known this little bit of information before, was quite surprised. "But you were always there, working more than you needed to." He paused. "I wasn't expecting that."

Cameron wasn't surprised by his arching eyebrows. True, she had dutifully worked five times a week on TGT at the headquarters, but – but, well, she wasn't really into it. For her, it was a second job; she preferred virusbusting near the Yumland area of the 'Net, Net City being too crowded and everywhere else being not crowded enough. Ranji knew, of course, as did everyone else, but rarely asked her about it; it was the sort of thing Cameron always did alone. "Well, you know I always liked virusbusting more," she went on, carefully deciding her words as she spoke. "To me, working on TGT was something I did as a second job – true, I did have fun, but it was only one time. I don't know if I want to do it again."

She wasn't very surprised when, by the end of her speech, Ranj was smiling again, though she couldn't fathom why. "Well, you should," the spy Navi encouraged the virusbusting Navi, "it makes you interact more with people."


	12. Computer and Curry

Came noon and came the sunlight pouring through a window to reveal a single crazed crimefighter, spiked brown hair a-flop as he navigated his way through the Internet. Also came the rousing cry of a friend's "Come down, Lan, it's lunchtime!", though it wasn't a surprise when he didn't bother getting up or even looking away from the screen.

"Give me some time, Yai!" Lan called back, fingers clicking rapidly over the keys. Now this was one awesome computer – he could get used to being rich someday, if he ever somehow did get rich in the first place. (Which, taking into account his and Mega Man's NetBattling skills, was sure to happen, he knew.) "I want to keep Netsurfing!"

Some grumbling and an impatient bark from the other ten downstairs ensued, but Lan – ignoring them, and quite conveniently too – only continued typing away into that tiny, bright little search bar. He needed to find more information, and with broader subjects and shorter words – search entries that would find him with more than enough information yet not crowd him with useless junk from the deep scrapholes and cesspools of Internet filth.

Finally, a disgruntled female voice called back up to him. "Have it your way, then! We're going to eat without you – and, on top of it all, we're having curry!"

Lan perked up instantly, ears attuned to every sound coming from the suddenly still people downstairs. Standing perfectly still, filled with tension, and barely breathing, he called back, "What did you say, Maylu?"

"Exactly what it sounded like!" This time, the reply came from someone he knew – all too well. None other than humanized Navi (and former bully-beater Jack Miller) Mega Man.EXE; it didn't take a genius to figure _that _out. "So, are you going to come or not?"

"Well, yeah!" Seconds later, a pounding down the stairs (pray tell, Yai's mansion was sprinkled with elevators – why were they never allowed to use them?) resonated in the ears of those waiting for the one and only Lan Hikari to return from an as-fast-as-he-could-go Internet break.

-------------------------------------------

"Now that was good curry!" grinned Lan as, splitting from the others but deciding to upstairs with Dex, he trooped toward the stairs. "A fine meal from – well, uh, wherever Yai's food comes from."

Yai smiled. "There are cooks who work for us Ayanos, Lan." She tapped her empty plate, as if inviting him to come back down. "Curry is the perfect food to tempt you down to lunch, you know – especially when it's cooked this well."

"No need to remind me," grunted Lan, his good mood evaporating as a drop of sweat coursed down from under his headband.

"All's well ends well, I guess." Mega Man played with one of his gloves, pulling it on and off, on and off. He'd decided to wear them a while ago, not being used to human clothes – they were plain black gloves, but for all their simplicity gave him a look that was both laid-black and eccentric. "What were you looking up over there, anyway?" He gave his Net Op a scathing look. "Why was it so necessary for you to bug Chuck to bring us here – to Yai's mansion – when all you had to do was go home to do it? I want to know."

"Yeah, but then again I'd also like to know just how come I don't have any jitters the day before the Grand Tournament initiation." Ignoring his Navi's reprimanding gaze, Lan casually strolled up the stairs, faithfully rubbing the banister like a boy would his dog. He was also, apparently, quite unaware of the shivers traversing his spine and the cold sweat now pouring down from the now-soaked bandana – not only had mentioning the oncoming NetBattling tourney made him apprehensive, but he didn't even realize it. "For now – to the Internet!"

"Again." Roll sighed and looked at Maylu. "Why did he have special food prepared for him, anyway? It's not like he needed it." Grinning, she glanced at Lan with a (very) thinly disguised wink. No, seriously – the others could actually see her cheek purposefully contracting with the movement. "Pity we even came here just because he wanted to, isn't it?"

They both grinned hugely at Lan, who wordlessly aimed the peace sign back toward them before directing Dex higher up the stairs, which they then proceeded to mount. Shaking her head in exasperation, Maylu turned to Tory:

"Do you understand those two?"

Tory laughed, watching as Ice Man, stealthily creeping forth from the shadows, busied himself in following the boys. Hand clenching on the PET conveniently stored in his pocket, he grinned. "Yeah, I think I do."


	13. Attempting to Scour the Database

Meanwhile, Lan and Dex were busy mounting the stairs to one of Yai's many, spacious other rooms. As had been previously noted in a conversation, the quintet, their Navis, and Rush were here because Lan had wished it; as a matter of fact, he had quite desired using one of Yai's powerful computers to – once again – surf through the information of the Grand Tournament staff's database to find exactly he what he was looking for. Actually, Lan knew, he probably could've just asked the answer to his question, but this, to him, seemed a much more sneaky and excitable method of accomplishing it.

"That's it, then," said crazed crimefighter told Dex after having finished recounting this particular bit of information to the former bully of the DenTech Elementary School. "That's basically why I wanted to come here and" -- here a pause to dramatically take in a breath of air -- "do this thing."

"I don't care why, as long as get to use the supp– the syupe–" In spite of the fact that he was now without question in the seventh grade, Dex still hesitated with the word. "As long as I can get to use some sort of—"

"Superior, dearest Dex, superior," replied Lan breezily, patting his friend's arm. Amazingly, Dex didn't comment on Lan's 'superior' intelligence.

"—superior technology, I really don't care," he finished, gathering his wits about him. Cracking his knuckles, he gave Lan a smirk. "It's way better than the computer at my house."

Lan shrugged as they reached the end of the staircase._ And again: why in the world doesn't Yai let us use her elevator? _She's _rich, for crying out loud_! "Anyway, here we are," he announced, glancing from one end to the other of the tactfully-decorated hallway – the decorations and embellishments had a modern-day, techno theme but the furniture and the plush red rug beneath their feet perfectly fit the kind of wealthy interior that the rich would have had two decades ago. "The room we're looking for is down that way," he added, gesturing to the right of where they were standing.

With practiced, totally silent movements, Lan and Dex bounded over to the chamber where stood the ultimate operating system whose use they had formerly been employing. It was a fairly empty room, kept cool for the many machines, PCs and PETs t concealed within. And indeed there seemed to be no shortage of these – big and small, thick and thin, black, white and gray, they stood, immaculate and bright, on many tables and at over a dozen computer desks. Neatly arranged against the walls of the room with chairs tucked into the wooden surfaces below them, there were a great many of them. The biggest one – the one Lan immediately made his way over to find – was a large unit, a box-like prism with a screen above and an overabundance of buttons below. In between that space laid a state-of-the-art, high-tech keyboard, equipped with keys that covered the letters of the alphabet to difficult commands that performed much-used functions.

"Here we are," Lan repeated, pulling up the operating system's smooth-backed plastic chair and seating himself. Dex, looking a tad annoyed, brought over a nearby chair. He looked around while Lan tapped a button near the edge of the screen and fidgeted impatiently in wait. The walls weren't plaster or wood; all Dex could see as he gazed above the machinery was a mass of metal, molded and bent into a shape that spanned the room's entire length.

"It's done booting up." Still impatient, Lan grabbed Dex by the cuff of his T-shirt; the boy had previously undone his necklace and Guts Man's PET was in his pocket. (The movement was strangely easy for Lan, considering the large amount of pounds that Dex had more than him.) "Come see."

"Do I have a choice?" Dex grunted in return, grounding himself as he reassumed his position on the chair and pushed Lan's grabby hands away, irritated. "So, now, let's see this baby in motion." Cheering at the thought, Dex cracked his knuckles again and thoughtfully surveyed the bright blue desktop onscreen. It was almost empty, save for the occasional (and scarce) icon.

"Now 'en," Lan began loftily, "this computer doesn't have a mouse, but it does have this." Reaching forward, he snatched at a tiny switch above the monitor's screen, pushed it roughly and allowed it to snap back. The toggling instantly caused an odd thing to happen. Where there had previously been a large empty space, devoid of keys, on the keyboard, there was now an odd little something rising forth from below.

"And voilà!" Lan crowed triumphantly, allowing the small device to recuperate for seconds before directing his hand toward it. "Here I give you a fine example of one single thing – a mouse."

"I'm impressed." Dex arched his eyebrows, watching as, with dexterity and alacrity, Lan shifted the pure white clicker that had appeared onscreen to the starting bar via the metallic semi-sphere underneath his hand. Quickly, the cursor slid over the controls and programs available before alighting on one program:_ Database Containing Every Databyte in the Entire Country._

"Here we have exactly what we're looking for." With one forceful click, Lan watched briefly as the cursor morphed into a hand, a new something opened up onscreen, and the cursor once more took on its regular shape." Each and every single byte of data to be found in the whole country." He gesticulated expansively with his free hand. "Every single one."

Dex whistled:

"Well, Lan, I'm impressed." He whistled some more. "Really impressed – I guess money can give you everything you want, huh?"

"Not necessarily everything," Lan grinned, nastily and mysteriously, as he allowed the unit's bright light to play across his face and cast his features into shadow. "But, with this baby here, privacy can be invaded – and quite well too, I might add."

Dex grinned back, equally devious. "It's awesome what Yai has in here," he declared, shaking his mohawked head, "and we definitely need it, but does she?"

"Yai?" Lan shrugged, the grin disappearing rapidly from his face. "I dunno. Maybe her father needs it or something. Either way, though" -- and here his grin reappeared and intensified -- "Yai seemed to know where everything was when I asked her. I figure all the computers in this room are 'equipped', shall we say, with this database, sooo..."

"The innocence, for once, does not prevail." Dex chuckled, surprised by the total of two big words that had emerged from his own mouth. "Instead, darkness wins, plunging guilt away deep into its core beside the innocence and all other things pure and wonderful."

"You wish." Lan grinned; now, finally in what country's biggest database of, well, data, he led the clicker over to a single white line spanning the length of the screen. "OK, so this is where I type the keywords that'll help us find what we need. By the by, I'm trying to ignore your burst of sudden intelligence, if you're wondering."

"Like I couldn't figure that one out. And, for some reason, this stupidity makes me want to have a NetBattle with you again." Dex stared as the words 'Grand Tournament code names' appeared onscreen; the database was like any other he'd seen, albeit considerably neater. All that filled the scrupulous screen aside from the search bar was a small icon of the world – which rotated on its axis as it processed Lan's request – and some of the newest databytes being saved all over the country. Panels of data – interconnected patches of colors and files arranged in squares – stretched in the background in what appeared to be an infinite flash of light and sound.

"The results," Lan intoned melodramatically as a list that was a lot longer than he had expected materialized onscreen. "Where there many more than is needed," he went on, eyeing the lot of them uncertainly. "Maybe we shouldn't do this, after all. Maylu and Roll wouldn't have been lying to us, like you said, but that doesn't mean I didn't want to not do this. And now I actually don't want too… But I think I'll do it anyway. It's too cool so far."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Lan moved the mouse downward, skimming the list of results. Seconds later, he still hadn't found what he was looking for, but Dex knew the way. "There!" the young Oyama, exclaimed, pointing to what appeared to be the forty-first result. "There it is!"

Chewing his lip, Lan tentatively reached out with the mouse and clicked. Eyes flying up and down as he surveyed the page as it loaded, the crazed crimefighter blinked when a message popped up onscreen instead of what they needed – or, more specifically, wanted.

"What?" was all Lan could say as he stared, transfixed, at the words before his eyes. In black and white, it clearly stated the opposite of what he wanted.

"'This data cannot be accessed without a password. This private information cannot be found in the database,'" Dex murmured, as he too, stared, enthralled, at the screen. Eyes flickering from one end of the slick white box that to the other, he turned to face a shell-shocked Lan. "Did what I think happened happen?"

"Yeah," replied the dumbstruck Lan as he directed the cursor over to the red button marked with an x. "I guess so..."

And then the lightbulb actually seemed to appear over his head as he declared loudly, "I got it!"


	14. The Truth is the Truth, and It's Shot

"See, it lies in the hacking," a grinning Lan told a grinning Dex seconds later after having closed the running database application. "There are ways to get what is wanted – by hook or by crook – as long as a person's armed with a computer, especially an excellent high-tech version such as this one."

"So, shall we hack the old roundabout way?" asked a casual Dex. "Or shall we partake in a new, delightful way before, after this, an awesome NetBattle between friends?"

"Dex, old chap, I must say I am quite surprised. Since when can you talk so quaintly?"

Lan and Dex both gave each other the oddest of glances before cracking up and doubling over with laughter, respectively. It was weird, to hear the smart words that came from their mouths – true, Lan was smarter than Dex, but to hear them talking like middle-aged, pleasant Englishmen was just odd. They both sounded idiotic, in their ears, though in reality it could be noted how their phony British accents were not as idiotic as they thought, to be sure.

Anyway, after the seconds-long bout of laughter was over, Lan gave a last chuckle before thoughtfully clicking three keys: Control, Alt, and Delete. As the Task Manager appeared, he gave Dex a friendly wink.

"If you start typing random programming codes, not forgetting to divide them by zero, it usually crashes the computer. (Don't ask me how I know, but I can say that it was a nasty business.) But, if you do that exact same thing with the Task Manager on --" Another evil wink was passed between friends. "Well, it's a nasty business indeed," Lan finished, grinning to reveal teeth that, to Dex, looked somewhat pointed. (That probably had something to do with his hallucinating imagination, come to think of it.)

"Programming codes? Like what?" Dex involuntarily leaned forward in his chair.

"Well, basic ones that wouldn't work together – that 'divide by zero' actually crashes the program you use it for." Lan manoeuvred the cursor out of the way on the screen before rolling up his sleeves to the elbow. "So, all I have to do here is type out random programming codes. They won't appear onscreen, but, Dex, I can tell you that something weird will happen after about a minute."

"OK," replied a cautious Dex. "But, Lan, why does it do this kind of thing? And how do you know that it'll work on this kind of computer?"

"It was a major glitch, I think." Lan cracked his knuckles and held his hands above the keyboard. "Something really complicated to do with programming that I can't explain – at least, that's the way I see it. And see this?" He pointed to an emblem of intertwining circles melded directly above the unit's screen. "That's a brand of extremely high-tech computers. I know 'cause Dad uses their make." He grinned. "The glitch goes for all computers by this brand—" he stood up and checked something behind the screen "–ever made before this year. This one's outdated, so it should work." His smirk expanded as he seated himself once more. "I know, but don't ask me how. It's a long story."

"How do you know?" Dex asked immediately; telling someone not to do something always tempted them to do it. Lan ignored him.

Dex nodded, deciding to respect his friend's wishes and keeping quiet as the sound of clicking began. The furious tapping away filled the silence with the movement of ten bustling fingers on numerous keys. This was it; in seconds they would be able to find...uh...what Lan was looking for again. This was what they both wanted; this was one attainable thing that required no amount of striving though a considerable amount of patience, focus, and making no mistakes.

A minute later, the file had been accessed.

"Nick DeCoren, Blaster Man, Dan Tomasetti, Renegade, Mills Thompson, Glacier Man, Matilda Cheyne, Mavis DelAir, Sprawls."

"Huh? I don't get it."

"D'oh! D'oh! D'oh! D'oh! Why, why, why?!" Lan pounded his head repeatedly against the keyboard. "Why did I ever have to doubt Maylu's judgement?!"

Dex gaped. "Yeah, why? Maylu's the— the best person I know!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

---------------------------------

Not too far away, Maylu and Roll looked at Yai, Glide, Tory, Ice Man and Rush as Yai shut down one of the headquarters' cameras, whose feed she'd programmed to send directly to her computer's database.

"Ya know, they really should have trusted us," said Maylu shrewdly.

They all burst into laughter at the boys' demise.


	15. Pep Talk

"Mega Man, I'm telling you, it's a conspiracy!"

Mega snorted and pushed the crazed crimefighter away. "Seriously, Lan," he said with a grin, "do you honestly believe that?"

Seconds stretched between them. Finally Lan, cocking his head to the side, replied. "No of course not," he declared stoutly, but was still scandalized. "But come on! I mean, why does this have to happen? Why in the world do we have to disguise ourselves again?"

"It was just Mega the first time, Lan," cut in Roll with a giggle.

"Yeah, but disguising ourselves? Where's the sense in that?"

Piero, who was standing by them with Elynor, shook his head. "Listen, Lan," he began quietly, "you may not have realized this, but word of your—er—"

"—crimefighting has reached the ears of bad guys." She looked them deeply in the eyes, watching them look back at her earnestly, though Lan's expression was still dubious. "By now, most people on this side of the country have heard of you at one time or another, and you entering a public tournament is bound to reveal your location to those bad guys if they know it's you who are in the tournament."

"What's the point?" scoffed Lan. "I mean, they know where I live."

"It's still important, all of you," Piero went on, looking them each in the eyes as deeply as Elynor. "We can't stop them coming to you guys, not being Official NetBattlers and all, but we can protect you during the tournament." He surveyed them calmly but sternly. I trust you understand."

"But why? This tournament is in DenTech; they'll know we're in it." Lan was about to go on when Maylu pulled him angrily away.

"Don't mess things up," she hissed. "We already know why we have to go around like this, and you well know why." She glared pointedly, grabbing him by the back of his orange vest. Lan yelped; Maylu took him away, shaking her head. "Of course, I don't think us being in the Tournament in the first place is a good idea; I wouldn't have signed up if you hadn't asked me too."

"Yeah, that's what you think!" Lan's face was wreathed in a smirk. "But is it really true?"

Maylu groaned.

-----------------------------------

About three minutes later, Piero was busy giving the NetBattlers participating in the tournament and the staff a pep talk with Elynor. The purple Navi still lurked in the background, eyes glowing. Now and again Elynor glanced at her, her movements hurried and worried.

"Now then." Piero glanced at Maxim, who was busy attaching his feathered cape to his back impatiently. "TGT starts tomorrow. Maxim, you're the initiator; when Chuck – he's the host – says 'It begins!', start your thing."

"I know that." Maxim grinned as he leaned against the wall alongside Lara. "I could unnerve you increasingly more if that violet Navi over there wasn't creeping me out, but hey!" He shrugged dismissively. "Do I look like I care?"

Cameron shook her head. Some people never learned.

"Chuck, you're the host." Elynor turned to the groovy retro-man, who was standing straight as he hummed along with the music coming from the huge microphones stoppering his ears – there hadn't been any portable music players in hippie times, so he had compromised by getting a scrappy older model. "You have to introduce everything – Chuck, are you listening to me?"

Chuck grinned. "Yeah, I am," he replied coolly, tapping his nose. "And trust me, Ells, I, like, know what I'm gonna do t'morrow." He winked. "This is more'n just groovy, baby."

"Don't call me that." Elynor looked peeved; Piero, for a matter, looked even more annoyed, but she shushed him with a wave of her hand and turned to the NetBattlers in the tournament. "Now then," Elynor began, looking at each and every one of them. "Look at it this way. You're all going to be in the tournament. I know that a lot of you aren't Official NetBattlers, so this probably isn't up to your standards, but it's still worth a fight. When Maxim is finished initiating, he'll signal you. Then, streak onto the area like we practiced."

The NetBattlers nodded. "All set?" she went on, seeing their nervous, pale faces. There was some more nodding, scarcer this time, and Elynor smiled. "I'll know you'll do well in the presentation, but, even if you don't, remember that it's the NetBattle that counts."

She gestured to our fateful group, whose Navis were once back in their PETs, and ushered them away from the others. "See," she began, "you guys aren't any more special than the next guys but, after Mauve has done with you" -- here she gestured to the purple Navi, who raised a hand smoking with vibrant energy -- "you'll look totally different, trust me." She paused, hesitating, and Piero asked the question that was all on their minds:

"Do you think you're ready for this?"

"You know perfectly well we are." Maylu smiled, not seeming nervous at all. "Trust me, we're used to NetBattling."

"I know it'll be great, too," Roll chimed in; behind her, Tory nodded resolutely.

"Also, Chaud and Proto Man don't need new identities," Savannah added conversationally from where she was standing between Elisa and Douglas. "And don't forget just how strong they are." Shaking her head, she pushed her headband farther up; she had taken a break from her habitual tresses that say, though it was fairly hard to keep her unruly hair in check. "Got that?"

A tic in Lan's cheek was bulging; the crazed crimefighter looked unnerved. "Not again," he whispered, "We'd better beat 'em this time, Mega."

"I hope so, too, but it isn't the end of the world if we don't." Mega Man's voice was meaningful, purposeful. "After all, it's not like they're the only ones we may not be able to beat."

"I hope you're not right." Dex groaned and pumped a fist into the air. "I wanna be the best NetBattler ever."

"Guts! Guts!" Guts Man was evidently happy. "The future looks bright, guts."

Dex grinned. "You bet we have."

"After that," Elynor went on, checking her watch, "go backstage. Piero and I will explain to you how everything his going to work out; after that, you can go to the audience and wait until it's your turn to NetBattle."

"Any tag matches?" Ice Man asked hopefully. "We haven't learned who were going to fight yet."

In response, Piero winked. "I'm not gonna tell you that," the scientist said. "It's for us to know and you to find out."

Elynor smiled and playfully slapped Piero's shoulder. "He's right," she finished. "Anyway, that's it! I'll see you guys tomorrow after Mauve has done with you."

In the background, the glow in Mauve's eyes became more piercing. Guts Man shivered.

"But one more thing." Piero held up a finger, turning to Chuck. "Chuck, who do you want to host the tournament with?"

"Sal!" With a jazzy flourish and artful twist, the hippie-turned-chauffeur pointed to the green-haired Official NetBattler. "I most definitely want to do it with her."

At that point – were they just dreaming, or was this really happening? -- Sal's cheeks seemed to darken slightly. "I can't, Chuck." She shook her head. "I'm going to be in TGT – you know that."

"I can go do it," offered Savannah, "I don't mind being commentator along with you, Chuck."

At this, Chuck felt his PET with one hand. Everyone knew that his Navi, Adrian, was with Piero's Petey in a room not far from them, packing up. They had to go to the stadium were TGT was going to be held; the place wasn't very nice, so, likewise, it had to be decorated. "What about Lara?" he asked. "Isn't she going to be in the tournament?"

"I've had enough to last me a year or so yet," Lara teased jokingly. "So why in the world Max here tried to tempt me with the sign-up sheet pushed right in front of my face all day, I simply do not know."

Maxim pushed her back away, bursting into laughter and dissolving into giggles.

Elynor rolled her eyes. "OK, enough, guys. Piero and I have to go to the stadium with the rest of the staff; we'll be seeing you tomorrow." She made her way to the far wall, calmly ignoring Mauve's roving eyes, and gathered her stuff from where it was gathered in a nearby cubbyhole. "Until then, kudos for all the NetBattling you've done in the past. It sure is going to help you, I can say that much."

"One question," interjected Lan as Piero, too, retrieved his laptop and laden bookbag before heading toward the door. They both whirled to face him, inquisitive. "Why are you telling that to us? After all, we're just kids." He gestured to his friends, a hard look in his eyes. "I'm gonna try my best in the tournament, and I know they will too, but it doesn't mean that we have to know everything that the staff knows."

At this, Douglas, who was busy strapping on his own backpack, winked. "Well, see, the thing is--"

"-- the other contestants always know," finished Clifford with a wink, materializing beside Douglas.

"Duh!" they both chimed in together.


	16. Fashionable Disaster

"So, Mauve, what are you going to do to us?" Guts Man's huge fist was extended in the purple Navi's direction. It was a few minutes later, the Navis were once more in the Real World with their Operators and Mauve was calmly facing them, an opened trunk at her feet. "What are you gonna to do us that'll hurt us so much, guts_? What_?"

"I'm not going to tell you if you don't be quiet," replied the Navi simply, pushing his fist away with no visibly effort. "Got it?" Her harsh voice held a hint of a British accent; as it sounded through the room, Lan looked alarmingly at his friends.

"Guts Man, don't be so hostile." Roll ushered the big Navi away from the smaller one. "She's here to help us, you know."

"Anything for you, Roll, guts," gushed Guts Man instantly, the light of love appearing in his eyes as he stomped hurriedly away with her. "You know perfectly well that I will, guts."

"Yes, I do." Roll was amused. "So let's all try and listen to this Navi. She's here to help us, after all."

"And got paid a fat lot of Zenny for it, too." Mauve lifted her hands, finally allowing the sparkle to fade away from them. Her stylish violet suit twinkled in the half-light as she gestured to the wallet clipped to a chain around her neck. "Anyhow, as you probably know, I'm going to make you smooth, fashionable, not like you are now, with clothes that are limp and pathetic."

"So, to give you some flare, style, and fashion." With a nasty smirk, Mauve singled out Glide by pointing at him with a single, threatening finger. "You, my friend, I think I will start with. You don't seem to have any – the fact that your Real World suit is almost the same as your Internet one attributes to that fact."

At this point, Glide drew himself up angrily. "I can assure you, I have quite a lot of class!" He glared. "And, I must say as well, fashion isn't everything!"

Mauve, however, seemed to relish the fact. "Of course it is," she said with a snerk and a snark, grabbing Glide by his collar. "You know it, too."

The others watched in horror as Glide was thrown into painful, agonising, anguishing fashion torture. They hated to think what would happen to the rest of them.


	17. FINALLY!

**It took me I-don't-know-how-many chapters to get TGT actually start, and now we aren't even at the NetBattling stage yet. Bleh. **

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And now presenting...MAXIM!"

The crowd leaned forward eagerly, transfixed, appalled. The lights went out; the stadium dimmed gradually. A single large, cone-shaped beam of light fell onto a single figure standing in the middle of the arena. He wasn't, as some would expect, in the Real World, but rather the Internet, and this was his image being projected into the arena, underneath the spotlight. The Navi, chin tucked into his chest, eyes closed, knees bent, arms gracefully extended outwards, waited until the single spotlight, undying in its brightness, focused and darkened in balanced contrast.

Once he was in perfectly equilibrated light and darkness, it began.

It was, suffice to say, a memorable dance.

With each artful twist, with each dazzling flick of his body, with each gradual slip from one foot to the other, with each knock of his booted feet as he rotated in a slow circle, it was as though time had slowed its very course just for him. They sat, still, calm, motionless, as the breathtaking dance filled their souls with joy, astonishment. On and on the slow, swirling dance progressed, the cape on his back a whirl of bright scarlet that danced along with him.

Now, the Navi came to a complete stop in a graceful pose. He was in the exact same position as before the dance had begun; a quick, creeping little song, its sharps stark in the near-silence, wafted from the unseen. Slowly, the dark melody of things gone wrong floated through the Navi's ears. Knowing the audience's breath was bated, he rose. Slowly, ever so slowly he rose; now, his arms were extended outward, his legs were straddled on balanced toes, the feathers on his cape were rustling slightly, and his eyes were still closed. The song came to an uncomfortable halt riddled with static, and it was in that single, breathtaking moment that it happened.

The Navi looked up and opened his eyes.

The pale blue gaze was so intense in the darkness that few eyes weren't riveted onto it. It was so powerful, so strong, so alluring, that the audience stared into their hypnotizing depths, stared and stared without a single thought of recoiling. Then, holding their gaze, the Navi artfully swirled in a flash of crimson. Before their very eyes, he vanished in a puff of blood-red smoke.

Hushed whispers filled the air.

"Now, then, folks. Pleased t'meet y'all group of groovies – truthf'lly, I dig the way you're, like, jist starin' there, where he left. Maxim's gone, somewhere, but I ain't tellin' ya where." In the commentators' box, mounted conveniently along a wall above the bleachers, a small blond man was speaking rapidly into a microphone. Adjusting the round black shades perched delicately on his nose, he seized the thing in one hand and his animated chatter filtered through the speakers and to numerous listening ears. "Anyhoo, this is Chuck Adams, hippie extraordinaire, tellin' ya that, while this tournament may not be the coolest, this dude definitely is!"

What sounded distinctly like a slap resonated briefly before a woman's voice sounded clearly, lucidly, through and beyond the speakers. "As Chuck said, welcome, folks, and I'd like to tell you that Maxim, Elisa Cox's NetNavi whose awe-inspiring performance which you just bared witness to was the initiator of the Grand Tournament. That's right, folks. The Grand Tournament which has finally come to Netopia after months of careful planning." An African woman, with a much sleeker pair of sunglasses perched on her nose that complimented her black clothes quite well, picked up her own microphone in a calm, firm grip. "It has finally come, and I can assure that we are well prepared, even sporting some of the newest culinary delights from deep in Yumland for you to buy during NetBattles. (Just because they can't eat there doesn't mean they can't create recipes, after all.) This is Savannah Djammous, signing off. You'll have to wait by though for a tad though, folks; the Navis need to be prepared."

The crowd was growing restless; it was at this point that food sellers, such as Luanne, sprang from behind the bleachers, armed with 'the newest culinary delights from deep in Yumland.' _This is my dream, _she thought happily as she leapt from one level of the bleachers to another, offering her wares at the top of her lungs. _And I'm not falling! _for, somehow, the tracts, while they limited running for stretches at a time, saved her from a long-winded, painful death. _Woo hooooooo!_

Watching these preparations with a smile, Savannah turned to Chuck. "Did you ever expect this, buddy?"

"I so did not, baby." Chuck cast an expert eye over the works. They were in a traditional NetBattling stadium, cheap yet complete with everything required: loud speakers one-hundred percent ready to transmit the neat and nifty tunes stuffed hastily into CD cases in the control room, cushioned and padded seats with perches for food and drink, a small ticket box near the entrance that was currently empty of its paper acceptance slips, and – last but not least, for of course without this how would TGT be able to work? – an Internet console plugged in with what had to be at least a hundred contestants' Navis. The thing was protected well enough so that the jacked-in PETs didn't overheat themselves or the system by sturdy, durable metal plating – cheap, but efficient, bargain price or otherwise. Grinning hugely, Chuck turned down from the massive spectacle that faced his eyes and made an adjustment.

Two black records with red-labeled centers were perched precariously on pointed sticks on the counter some distance away. Pulling a switch underneath the counter that separated the marvelous view from the stone wall behind them, Chuck set the turnspike – his word --- in place; the disks instantly began to rotate. It was slow at first – at least, that was before Chuck dealt with them. Appearing before the records, he placed his hands on each record and swiftly trailed his fingers across their surfaces, which caused a bright and peppy techno tune to filter in with varying speeds through the speakers along with the traditional DJ background audio. This accomplished, he continued spinning the disks as he aimed a grin to Savannah. "Neat, huh, gal?"

Savannah rolled her eyes and swiveled a three-sixty in her chair, coming to face a big black button at the end of the box's straight, expansive counter. At Chuck's flabbergasted stare, she grinned mischievously. "Who said a gal can't have her fun?"

"Sav, I'm so amazed with ya, dig?" Chuck's mouth was dropping open – good thing he wasn't speechless. She hated that, for some reason or other. "This is, like, jist so – so weird. So wired, even." He grinned and adjusted his sunglasses so that a hazel twinkle cut through their impassive, reflective black plastic. "Y'know what I'm sayin'?"

Savannah merely grinned and watched a huge cube drop into existence below them, where Maxim had been standing, from a trapdoor above. By now, the audience was occupied with the food, light, sound and general entertainment coming to them from the masked dancers parading between the bleachers and generally doing a bad job of avoiding the food and ticket sellers patrolling amongst them. A few people, however, noticed the cube; Savannah impatiently drummed her fingers on the counter as, in snazzy, sparkling, disco writing (Chuck's idea) appeared. Watching the words 'Do Not Touch' write themselves onto the cube in groovy scribbles, she smiled.

A basic Internet NetBattle setting flickered on with flourishes, blots, and splashes of color, replacing the writing and transparent surface. The setting was basic, but – as long as the PETs were wired into the central system during a NetBattle – it could be changed at need. Chuck apparently, had something that could turn a whole NetBattling area into a twinkling, retro, pavilion-like discotheque – 'My secret,' he had confided with an enigmatic grin when the TGT staff had pestered him about where he'd obtained it.

"Anyhoo, when's the actual tournament gonna start, man?" Chuck now pestered Savannah, spinning a whacked flower-shaped pin on his chest promoting the message 'Like, I'm a Hippie! And, Man, Am I Ever Proud of it!'. He consulted the groovy leather strip covered with detailed daises and faded analog surface that was his hip, flower-power watch. "In five minutes, or five hours?"

"Stop it," joked Savannah, whapping her friend playfully with her PET. She wasn't in the tournament, and Lara was backstage – well, technically, underground, along with the rest of the NetBattlers in the tournament. "It shouldn't take too long. As a matter of fact, I think the others are preparing underground."

"That'll be more'n jist psychedelic – when it starts." An amused Chuck glanced toward a magnificent carpeted staircase, currently unused, stationed near the balcony opposite from their commentators' box. The place had come with inexpensive steady, well-made underground tunnels. Of course, it had required loads of redecorating and renovation from the combined talents of Mauve and Lou, who was good at that, though now it was used as a quite workable preparation room. Indeed it worked; the tiny microphones stuck into Chuck and Savannah's ears were powerful enough to detect the whirring emanations of the high tech underground.

Finally, a sharp whistle broke into both their ears via the microphones. "It's here!" Savannah called frantically to Chuck, spinning around as fast her swivel chair would allow, her hair in disarray and her shades askew as he began to fiddle with the dials, knobs, buttons, switches and triggers that covered the box's underside. "They're ready! It's finally about to start! Get the CGE and Internet Brightness ready!"

"Gotcha, Savvy. Crystal clear," muttered Chuck as he, too, furiously whirled around.


	18. It Begins

"Welcome, ladies'n'gents, cats'n'dogs! It's the moment – well, I guess I should say time, a time that's sure groovy, instead – you've all been waiting for! It's—"

"—the Grand Tournament! Put your hands together, folks, to see what we have to offer in these contestants – the young, the old, the famous and the unknown!"

The two commentators, seated up high in their box, applauded enthusiastically as the lights dimmed and several figures swept across the battle arena. They streaked across for what seemed like several minutes to the eyes of those in the crowd, and then—

"Well, here they are! Stand, NetBattlers no one knows exists! Let everyone see you for the first time!"

_Oh, they know we exist, all right, _thought one of the NetBattlers as he stood, chest heaving from the fast glide across the floor.

The NetBattlers stood in one even line, their Navis pressed against their backs in an equal line. There were a great many of them – well, about a score, which, for a starter tournament, wasn't bad these days – but a few were clear to their eyes, were different, stood out in the mess of NetBattlers and their Navis.

One, standing there, sunglasses shading his eyes and a headband wrapped around his head, surveying the crowd coolly as they surveyed him. One, standing there, her arms crossed and her eyes twinkling, dressed simply but elegantly, her hair tied in a short ponytail behind her head. One, standing there, dressed classily in a vest and sleek pants, smooth brown hair that curled fashionably behind his ears. One, standing there, evidently fairly short but her height enhanced thanks to stylish platform shoes, her hair falling in a cascade down past her shoulders. One, standing there, dressed in a shirt and sweatpants, his hair set in small but proud spikes across his head.

And, of course, the Navis whose backs they were leaning against. One, standing there, eyes hidden by glassy-lensed gray goggles, body covered in armour, arm tipped with a huge Buster. One, standing there, her tightsuit plain but geared up with all the latest gadgets, her chest emblazoned with an arrow slicing through a heart, a small shadow drooping over her shoulder. One, standing there, curled into a ball but still solid on his feet, armour basic and cumbersome but perfectly complacent with his body. One, standing there, looking as if he were about to jump into the air at any moment if his spring-ended boots and light armour were anything to judge by. One, standing there, small but powerful, fists clenched as he blew into them, with no armour but a single all-encompassing silver piece.

Yes, they were there, and they looked familiar. A few of them even had their hands up, two fingers outstretched, making them easily noticeable to the astonished, expectant audience. They were all there, watching nothing but each other, the contestants who surrounded them. That was the question on many a mind: who would win? Even now, this early in the tournament, everyone wanted to know. Who would come out on top – successful, victorious, triumphant? Who would win? _Who?_

"An' now, the rest o' the contestants, who, if that groovy little thin' called – what's it called, Sav?"

"If logic will have a say in this, then here are the rest of the contestants. I feel that you've seen and/or heard—"

"That's funny, cat, using 'an'/or' when you're talkin'!"

"Anyhow, as I was saying," Savannah went on, ignoring Chuck's tomfoolery, "You probably have seen or heard of most of them, but some may be new to you." She paused, leaving the pause dramatic and the tension mounting. "They're all Official NetBattlers." The part of the audience who had been expecting more than what she'd said were disappointed, even devastated, but that didn't stop them from listening in rapt attention to Chuck's next words:

"And, people, here they are!"

--------------------------------

ROUND ONE, BATTLE ONE: WOOD MAN VERSUS ABEL

"Looks easy, Wood Man," smiled Black Rose, plugging a FirePunch3 – even plant-type Navis had to defy the elements if it was a rare BattleChip, after all – after 'Battle Start' ran across the holographic screen. "Are you up to it?"

"I should have known we'd lose," sniffed Magnolia Sosa about a minute later, once Abel was back in her PET. "We can't compete with the pros."

ROUND ONE, BATTLE TWO: BLASTER MAN VERSUS RILLA

"'Sgonna be easy, isn't it, Me—Blaster Man?" the one known as Nick DeCoren mulled happily as he plugged a Chip down his PET.

About ten seconds later, Rilla gazed sadly at her Operator as she was jacked back into her PET. "Why, why did we lose?"

ROUND ONE, BATTLE THREE: THUNDER MAN VERSUS MAXIM

"We are going to win," said Raoul, surveying the standard Navi preparing himself for the upcoming battle out of the corner of his eye. "We can if we give it our all, Thunder Man."

About half a minute later, Maxim was uncharacteristically scowling and fiercely rubbing his Interworld Connector as he rematerialized in the Real World. "If it'd been someone easier, we would've had it in the bag."

ROUND ONE, BATTLE FOUR: GENE VERUS WILLIS

"Think we'll win?" smiled Ayame Kobayashi as she jacked Willis in. "We always have in the past."

About two minutes later, it was Gene who was smiling. "See, I told you all our hard work would pay off," he told Kito Camacho with a grin as they calmly watched Ayame slap her forehead in frustration.

ROUND ONE, BATTLE FIVE: PETEY VERSUS KING MAN

"Win or lose?" Piero Corradi watched Petey as, jacked into the Internet, his Navi wriggled his eyebrows in preparation for the match. "We're not too bad, maybe we'll win—"

"Done," declared King Man about two and a half minutes later as a desolate Piero pulled his PET plug from the console. "We won."

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**FirePunch3 is considered a rare Chip in the fic since it takes place around Battle Network 3 (twisting canon all the while, of course. Fanficcer: The Crazy Canonbender -- that's me!). It's actually a Chip from later on, so, in these fanfics, they're considered hard to find and 'pricey', to put it lightly. Next things next: doing a heck of a lot of research before even starting a** **fanfic! ****X)**


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